A curiosity overcomes my mind;

I feel as though I’m beginning to blind.

I do not know if I see you rightly,

I guess, I’ll stay along quietly.

I’ll hold your hand and taste your lips,

Breathe in your hair, hear your voice.

I’ll only see you in an eclipse,

Because I’m blind to your noise:

The stories of your mistakes,

Your deceptions and fiery lakes.

I know they’re there, but I am blind;

You and I are held together by a stronger bind.

You are an angel, perfectly designed.

My heart daily beats upon the rhythm of my soul;

Yet, whilst with you things begin to unroll.

I start to gasp for air, I don’t even care!

My heart begins to rapid,

Before, my life was far from vapid.

Feeling it could explode from my chest,

Now my heart could fly to Budapest!

I don’t know what to say,

If you could, say something if you may.


I can see your face: gorgeous in any light,

Your eyes, vitreous with delight.

For a time, i’twas filled with obliviosity;

But, as of late, I’m filled to the brim

Overflowing with a great gaiety!

And to let you know, this was just off a whim.

Who am I to speak with confidence;

When none I have to give in verbal nonsense?

Who am I to think;

When ignorance drowns me in a sink?

Who am I to see with rosed glasses;

When I am overcome with blindness?

Who am I to hear;

When I listen only to mine own fear?

Who am I to feel;

When I decimate our heartfelt seal?

Who am I to be;

If I act as what is portrayed of me?

Who am I to take a stance;

If I stand on nothing of balance?

Who am I, to be who I am?

Times I find, my body in shambles;

Yet, my soul strengthened for far more.

They who lash out play the gambles,

Have ceased never to stop before.

But now, you see, to play the game

You play the cards; Going forth

Taming lions in light of fame.

Beating thine accusers,

Making these ‘to losers;

Giving flight for us upon to soureth.

The world a canvas; Nature our adorned painter.
Piece splashed with vibrancy all over, yet stood a time about to die.
The leaves of the figures: dancing despite the frigid kiss of North.
Promenading forth and back am I; digesting, devouring, desiring for more.
Alas! Coming forth, the painter’s brush
Dotted with feathered black. The flock ebbing, flowing, pouring over the landscape.
Shadowed over the bodies of my peers, the birds fly in unison.
Now I hear a beautiful, magnificent symphony as the flock the noted bars,
The wind - woodwind; crinkled leaves - percussion; the branches - strings; the trees:
Grouped dancers of ballet, performing the interpretation
Of the dreamt reality set before me.

I can see all that is, and what was.

I run and jump and laugh and cry, because I am here now; because I was here then.

Yet, when I take my step, I am blind; There is a fog that mysteriously flows in, out, and around my very force.

I cannot step relying upon my logic; Faith and hope is what guides my way.

Thus, I often travel to the mirrored waters that reveal my past, and I see a face that shows too much pain and sorrow; a face that knows too much, one which feels for all.

Why? why am I plagued with this subsequent cloud? Why can't I see what is due, what is near?

At times I stumble over things that cause me to fail; Should I run through it? or walk to find my way? or crawl to be safe?

No, I will walk; But, I alone cannot find my way.

Thine forthcoming is grey and cloudy and bleak.

Help me to find, to step, and to know that which I seek.

Am I too complex? Why do I live in the deep corners of the mind?

I understand that which is pushed away; I learn what is untaught, what is lesser known.

Where do I fit in this world?

I fit nowhere, I am the anomaly among a system of ones and zeros.

I am the only streak that is against the grain.

I am that which is admired, but never loved.

I am that which is taken, but never given.

I am nothing that I see.

I am everything that no one knows.

I am the only one from which comes and goes.

Where am I going for life?

Should the voices of the loved guide my heart;

Or rather be the roadblocks to their betrayal?

Mindful of presently tomorrow,

I change gears in curious wonders.

Finding this field of the body;

Seized to fulfill an expectation of conformity.

Why tell me:

“Be inspiring!

Lead a passionate revolution!

Create in living breath!” ?

May the imagination of my mind:

Be the thoughts that inspire.

Be the passions of a revolution.

Be the creativity that breathes life.

The only real change in this war on conformity is for self-realisation,

Non-negative influences, and confidence in each other fighter.

Let this be my path,

Let this path be,

Do not alter my decision,

Do not dampen my cry for liberty!