have you ever thought
why does the wind howl like wolves-
they have both lost their sanity
why does the sun shine like your eyes-
i'm beginning to think you are the sun itself
why does love feel like dying-
a slow, pleasurable death
and why
why do these words fly from my fingertips
i am not apt
i am not an exclusive fool whose life
can only be defined as study, breathe, listen
i am no poetic monstrosity
i am no ocean dwelling mirage
i am a fickle existence-
one of billions
and my thoughts on the wind
and the sun
and love
they are not new
they are recycled, unneeded
elusive-
at least i tell myself that as i cry to the moon
and see your eyes in the sun
and feel the stabs of love
attack me from all sides
i hear the whispers in my mind
'this is alright'
and i feel
godly
in my own sufferings.