I flee, I flee yet not so far,
not far enough to be caught again
by the very thing that centered me for quite a while.
How fleest thou a thing that dwelleth everywhere?
I feel and feel in measures most discreet,
enough not to stumble into where the passion and the spirit meet.
How am I made of so many contradictions?
I toil, I read and I bleed on sheet.
Small feedings for the hunger of me.
Keeping its faint essence alive as I swear I don't need it to thrive.
How fleest thou a thing that dwelleth everywhere?
I ask the moon, the sun, the clouds, the stars, the constellations.
who only show me... and me again.
How am I made of so many contradictions?
The night arrives and the luna wakes to play
with the what-ifs I remember I jailed.
How fleest thou a thing that dwelleth everywhere?
I need no studded band, no dread, no snare.
Luna, I crave but freedom, light and open air.
'Tis Mono no aware.
Doth thou mock or test my weary sight?
for there is joy in the vision's light
yet waking brings melancholia's bite.
How fleest thou a thing that dwelleth everywhere?
That which I flee from, grants me air to breathe
though from its void my spirits leak
I refill it with living, with working,
waiting for joy to exist without the very thing.
How am I made of so many contradictions?
my soul seems to love what I do most despise,
I search for answers
in ancient words, in spirit and in mind.
How fleest thou a thing that dwelleth everywhere?
Thou shalt never truly flee that which dwelleth everywhere.
Mar 15
Mar 15, 2026 at 3:21 PM UTC
I flee, I flee yet not so far,
not far enough to be caught again
by the very thing that centered me for quite a while.
How fleest thou a thing that dwelleth everywhere?
I feel and feel in measures most discreet,
enough not to stumble into where the passion and the spirit meet.
How am I made of so many contradictions?
I toil, I read and I bleed on sheet.
Small feedings for the hunger of me.
Keeping its faint essence alive as I swear I don't need it to thrive.
How fleest thou a thing that dwelleth everywhere?
I ask the moon, the sun, the clouds, the stars, the constellations.
who only show me... and me again.
How am I made of so many contradictions?
The night arrives and the luna wakes to play
with the what-ifs I remember I jailed.
How fleest thou a thing that dwelleth everywhere?
I need no studded band, no dread, no snare.
Luna, I crave but freedom, light and open air.
'Tis Mono no aware.
Doth thou mock or test my weary sight?
for there is joy in the vision's light
yet waking brings melancholia's bite.
How fleest thou a thing that dwelleth everywhere?
That which I flee from, grants me air to breathe
though from its void my spirits leak
I refill it with living, with working,
waiting for joy to exist without the very thing.
How am I made of so many contradictions?
my soul seems to love what I do most despise,
I search for answers
in ancient words, in spirit and in mind.
How fleest thou a thing that dwelleth everywhere?
Thou shalt never truly flee that which dwelleth everywhere.
troubleshooting: you shall never truly run from something that is everywhere.
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