Photo of Leonard

I stare and watch your face
as it contemplates
your smile
You are but a photograph
Yet my heart still feels you

After the lense had shut
and the negative lay still
unborn
I wonder if you were
there
how I see you
here
now

I am a musical note in a guitar
Waiting for the touch of dexterous hands

I am a chrysalis under a paling leaf
Waiting to be turned into a butterfly

I am raw ore in the far depths of the mine
Waiting to be extracted and purified

I am a smoldering piece of coal in the hearth
Waiting to be blown into a flame

I am a rough stone under the Earth’s crust
Waiting to be hewn into a diamond

I am an antique piece long buried in the soil
Waiting excavation to become a treasured exhibit

I am a piece of canvas fixed on the easel
Waiting for the touch of a master artist

How I long to transcend my rawness
Into something better and refined

But can I do anything wholly myself
Never! Everything depends on others will too

I discern I am only a flickering shadow
That has existence only if there is light!

There's a storm in my teacup,
An ache in my head,
A plethora of words,
That are better unsaid.

There's a monster inside me,
That never stops speaking,
Though I try to control,
The havoc it's seeking.

You think I'm a good person,
But I do not agree,
My friend: you only judge me,
Based on what you can see.

governments who fear to hear
the voices of their citizens
are well advised
to mend their ways