Love is what it looks like to look at you
My pride I feel is proof enough
Of how pure and precious you are
Which somehow I always was aware of
When my eyes locked the first time
There was no other thought roaming
Than a desire to get to know you
As I saw you I stay ever since in awe
And each day as I grow closer
To understanding your beauty
I sink deeper in a delicate embrace
A liquid love that coats me in thick coverage
All around, soaked through and through
Like ink in my skin, no washing away
Caught on my retina one day
You stayed on my mind
As we connected at first sight
You latched on to my soul easily
Seeping your way into my heart
Daily devouring me with care
On emotion, in spirit, physically
With your love so empowering
How it overwhelms me full of wonder
There’s no will for me to control
Any of myself anymore
All for you it will always be
I don’t remember from before
Who I was prior to you loving me
desire
Be cliché because be yourself!
She wants to experience all the lives of all the others. She joins in on their hysterical crazes and tries to blend her mind with their outrageous ideas. She does the research to make sure she understands them and can keep up. She sometimes dives in too deep, and what for others was casual leisure, becomes now an obsession for her. That’s when she moves on to another group. One where she can fit more of herself in, one where she feels more parts of her reflected and understood.
I wish someone would tell her, it’s not necessary at all, what you are doing. You don’t have to conform to be able to be liked. You don’t have to try so hard to be still so unheard. You don’t have to sell your soul to open up your heart. You don’t have to be liked to be loved by people who matter. And what would you rather be, liked or loved? Disposable or invaluable?
The most important thing is to be aware of yourself and what you have to offer them. Don’t downplay yourself, be real and be honest. What do you see reflected in people’s faces when you’re with them? What compliments do they give that you got so accustomed to nonchalantly brush off? What do you like most about others? Chances are, that’s what you like most about yourself, only you have trouble seeing it in yourself, so you seek the reflection of it in others.
Go and experience your own life. Explore your own desires and weave your own dreams. Follow them, or write about them, paint them or just tell them to others. Inspire and have hope. Always have hope. Love and despair from time to time, but not all the time (no, not even love). Create and let loose. Suffocate yourself in breathing new things and drown yourself by swimming new depths. Be proud, be silly, be passionate, be noisy and obnoxious, be humble and forgiving. Be thankful and be aware. Be cliché because be yourself!
Infinity∞
I often wake up in a dream, wishing to be thunder, scary but never destructive.. or carelessly falling like rain, in solid free will..
there were no hearts found in any of my lives, any of all parallel universes, any of every alternate reality..
at least in one of them I am more, or happy, or evil, or useful, or reasonless..
who cares if you don’t have what you want here and now ? or then, there and never..
an infinity of worlds provides infinite possibilities, not each but every of your desires filled in one of them.. in total, this life doesn’t matter..
an infinity of lives is being lived by a countless amount of me…
but if infinity is infinite, there will also be infinite impossibilities, an infinity of disappointment and hurt.. dishonesty, treason and failure.. all stretched into the endlessness of time and space
..would anyone want to live through that ?
I’d rather just have this life.. I will always be everything and nothing in the greater scheme of it all ..this is just one frame .∞.
.Butterfly Lullaby.
At night she takes flight
Across the skies so bright
Lit up by the moon’s shine
Neither yours, never mine
In silver air she flows
Along locked windows
Deep in the dark she goes
Unaware of her foes
She prays for the sun’s fire
But careful to not get killed
By her heart’s desire
That with disease is filled
And the dangers that lure
In this nocturnal weather
Her soft wings flap pure
They strike light like a feather
But strong like a chain
As long as she can remain
She will rise between the shadows
And sleep in innocent meadows
When the dew has dried
And the roosters have cried
She’s off to her daily sleep
Lost in dreams she wills to keep
No Name
All I hear are my own footsteps, as I’m walking alone, thinking to find him in these empty streets. He doesn’t have a name, he doesn’t need one. Any name would only compromise his clarity, undo his figure.
I’ve only seen him a few times now. First I thought he was just a figment of my imaginative dreams. I found out he was real, when I saw him doing something which dreams are unable to do: appearing in my wake reality.
From then on I was amazed by this appearance, knowing it to feed my desire to connect with him on some level of resemblance. I used to watch him from a far, and cling to those brief moments, to then later on imagine what kind of person he could be, what kind of thoughts we might share, what kind of things he does in life, what kind of purpose he has been chasing.
One day I saw him in those empty streets, and for a short single second, I could swear, he glanced back at me ..for a moment.
For an instant we locked and connected and a rush of crushing waves flew through my body. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.
Locked away in a prison of my own makings, bars built of cognition, walls of emotional intellect. That is how I remain after I’ve been with or around him. It feels as though he tries to reach out to me, in attempt to gain access, seeking my response. Whenever he moves, it seems towards me. Whenever he speaks, it might be for my ears to hear. His eyes made to register my presence, every movement, any visible appearance. His hands designed to hold me in an embrace of sustaining grace.
Knowing whether it should be like that, I never will.
But faith does certain things to people. Faith which descended from my observation, the plausible interaction, our relation. Though not to be mistaken with ‘relationship’. Any bound or connection, even that which exist only from frequency or contiguity, can be called or referred to as a relation. Only thing necessary to construct a relation is at least one common factor, one feature that is alike.
As cause and consequence follow each other up like shackles of the same chain, so do we repeatedly approximate one another by time or distance. Like leafs in a twirl of spinning wind, we keep each other in eternal rotation. An endless game to play.
Truth Beyond Mystery 