Like a child,
you're silly and soft,
giddy and gladsome.
Like a child -
ever-inquisitive -
you love to learn.
You find those you admire
and question, not docile,
yet sure of more.

No hesitation in your advances,
like those who have yet to learn
to be unsure of themselves.
Age so often removes from us
the ability to love without hesitation,
or even to love at all,

but not from you.

I would have judged you
In that moment.
Between breaths.
When the hesitation spoke for you,
I would have judged you,
But I choked on my bitter rebukes
And started to drown
In the aftermath of it all.
I would have judged you
If there had been no need to judge myself

fear.

fear of what people will think.

fear of what people will do.

fear of how they will react,

                                                 if at all.

anxiety.

trying to fit into standards,

squeeze between their dotted lines,

wear my face like everyone else,

talk like they do,

act like they do,

all in the hopes that they believe I am as normal as they are.


that my life is

       perfect,

that my family is

       perfect,

that my health is

       perfect,

that my mind is

      perfect,

that I am

       perfect,


                     even if I am falling apart.

You will look for me when the sun will dry your tear
and passenger lovers will accuse your pain,
when you escape from the world's horror and fear,
when the gentle breeze's music will fall down as rain.
Or not...

You'll look for me when your excuses will be drowned
and your warm, ruby glance ​​will look for an answer,
when my laugh will have a contagious sound,
when you meet me on the street, in the arms of a dancer.
Or not...

You're going to look for me, grumpy and full of hesitation,
when the thighs of the nights will be closer than yesterday,
when I'll not look back for a long time from love's station,
when rhymes will be written on violin accords, in my holiday.
Or not...

You're going to look for me and ask me with your sight
if red rose petals of romance had fallen over my life,
but I will not let the flame burn me anymore, in the night,
even if your memory I will let it go, without a strife.
Or not...

The ancient word for hesitation.
Twisting and turning in your three-dimensional mind like a maze
till the ball of string you carry gets all tangled up.

Perhaps I should be more decisive...
Maybe I should me more conclusive...
Make up my mind like a bed and then,
maybe I should lay in it. Assert myself.
Treat life like a chess board.

Make my moves through my own devices
and not rely on the intervention of higher forces,
or guardian spirits to pilot my choices,
or sit uncomfortably on fences waiting for the fates
To push me either side.

Tweogan.
It is reassuring to know it's an age old phenomenon.
That even our ancestors were predisposed to
rock to and fro in fevers of doubt and indecision.
That our ancestors would dabble in-between conscientious visions;
caught in anxious possibilities and cautious projections.

The hidden threads of back and forth thought
all forgotten by hindsight's way of portraying
a seamless fluidity to the embroidery of life.

If I knew then
What I know now?
That my words were safe in you
That my heart was safe with you
That I had little to fear but myself
If I knew then
What I know now?
I would have said it all
I would have given you my heart
I wouldn’t have hesitated trusting you
If I knew then
What I know now?
Oh but I knew,
I knew, I knew,
You had me from the start.