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Wave your solemn goodbyes, And sink deep into This murky clot of my Broken memories And messy past, For you've chosen that as your Dwelling place. Is there such a thing as a beginning? I refuse to believe it is so; There are only endings. Even this poem, A safe outlet for the tension In my mind to come forth into a Half-sleeping existence, Did not begin. Before I wrote this line, There were more, and before the Very first of them, Before I even put my pen to the paper, There was a thought. Even before that thought came to be, It was a memory: A memory of an event And the events before then, spanning History from its first breath To its culminating heartbeat. Shall we neglect the technicalities And philosophical musings for a Brief moment And return to the single drop of water Not quite yet, I rather enjoy confusing My own mind. Do you ever wonder why I Tend to cleave to you now? Because when one has nothing and Gains even the most trivial of things, It becomes infinity. Everything in one's world becomes Filled with the Essence of what was once so scarce. Give me a grain of sand And my world becomes a desert. Give me a pebble And my universe becomes a mountain. Give me a raindrop And my eyes behold a waterfall. Give me a seed And my feet take root in a forest. Give me nothing And I shall remain in darkness, As I was from the start, But never from the beginning. You dare give me your affection? You're dealing drugs to the addict. My empty life becomes a Panorama of your love, and what more Does humanity exist for Than to be loved as passionately As they do. Lines blur as if The world has inconveniently Placed itself behind a foggy window. My horizon becomes the sky, My sea becomes the shore, My feet become the grass, And everything-- Everything there is--becomes you. My heart becomes yours, My mind becomes yours, My soul becomes yours, My skin becomes yours, My lips become yours, And my breath becomes yours... Oh especially that , I am sure Because you stole it right from my Sensitive lungs. All my senses can detect is you And there is nothing better, Nothing more I could want for. I will be whatever I wish to Because I refuse to sit still and Settle into the Preset mold prepared for me, Yet now that I see you I loose my identity in your Fine dark eyes. I wish to be noting more of less Than what you choose to make me. Who am I? All I can process Is what thoughts sweep across your Beautiful mind. You finally realize what I Questioned all along: how can You love someone who is no one? I am the grain of sand And you are the desert. I am the pebble, And you are the mountain. I am the raindrop, and you are the waterfall. I am the seed And you are the forest. I am nothing And you are everything To me. Hastily recoil and retreat with all You bestowed upon me If that is what pleases you. I will still be nothing And my world will also be nothing, And you will be nothing but a face That tugs at my nothingness of a heart, Sinking deep into This murky clot of my Broken memories And messy past.
0
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
Identity
Wave your solemn goodbyes, And sink deep into This murky clot of my Broken memories And messy past, For you've chosen that as your Dwelling place. Is there such a thing as a beginning? I refuse to believe it is so; There are only endings. Even this poem, A safe outlet for the tension In my mind to come forth into a Half-sleeping existence, Did not begin. Before I wrote this line, There were more, and before the Very first of them, Before I even put my pen to the paper, There was a thought. Even before that thought came to be, It was a memory: A memory of an event And the events before then, spanning History from its first breath To its culminating heartbeat. Shall we neglect the technicalities And philosophical musings for a Brief moment And return to the single drop of water Not quite yet, I rather enjoy confusing My own mind. Do you ever wonder why I Tend to cleave to you now? Because when one has nothing and Gains even the most trivial of things, It becomes infinity. Everything in one's world becomes Filled with the Essence of what was once so scarce. Give me a grain of sand And my world becomes a desert. Give me a pebble And my universe becomes a mountain. Give me a raindrop And my eyes behold a waterfall. Give me a seed And my feet take root in a forest. Give me nothing And I shall remain in darkness, As I was from the start, But never from the beginning. You dare give me your affection? You're dealing drugs to the addict. My empty life becomes a Panorama of your love, and what more Does humanity exist for Than to be loved as passionately As they do. Lines blur as if The world has inconveniently Placed itself behind a foggy window. My horizon becomes the sky, My sea becomes the shore, My feet become the grass, And everything-- Everything there is--becomes you. My heart becomes yours, My mind becomes yours, My soul becomes yours, My skin becomes yours, My lips become yours, And my breath becomes yours... Oh especially that , I am sure Because you stole it right from my Sensitive lungs. All my senses can detect is you And there is nothing better, Nothing more I could want for. I will be whatever I wish to Because I refuse to sit still and Settle into the Preset mold prepared for me, Yet now that I see you I loose my identity in your Fine dark eyes. I wish to be noting more of less Than what you choose to make me. Who am I? All I can process Is what thoughts sweep across your Beautiful mind. You finally realize what I Questioned all along: how can You love someone who is no one? I am the grain of sand And you are the desert. I am the pebble, And you are the mountain. I am the raindrop, and you are the waterfall. I am the seed And you are the forest. I am nothing And you are everything To me. Hastily recoil and retreat with all You bestowed upon me If that is what pleases you. I will still be nothing And my world will also be nothing, And you will be nothing but a face That tugs at my nothingness of a heart, Sinking deep into This murky clot of my Broken memories And messy past.
zita-nonie-hasenkamp
Written by
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
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