I sympathize with you.
Never have you thought
Not to experience this way of life.
You are well adjusted
In a maladjusted paradigm.
I sympathize with the shallow extent
Of your imagination and humbly I accept
The token of our silent agreement.
While you mope, drool, ogle
And taste success with the tip of your tongue,
I will be knee deep in the trenches.
Dodging light speed arrows,
Defusing air bending whistling apples
Thrown from afar
In the safety of paper walls.
Built to repel the mirrored image
Yet pale enough to distort what you see.
I humbly accept the quest you have entrusted me with
To seek and return
With the noble self you abandoned in the forests;
When you grew tired of discovery.
Should I return with the gift as promised,
Then I have failed you.
For I have given up my search
And named the last I saw and felt as that I sought.
By the grace of the most high,
The hidden observer;
Lost to a ripple of self inflicting wounds guised as judgement,
A lever as light as a feather,
"By the grace of the most high,
Should I not return then I have failed you once more.
I have failed to find something you thought you lost,
Yet still resides within us all."