We are mere men
A pathetic shell of our former glory
My hand will always be reaching forward
To the heavens
Hoping to glimpse a pinprick
Of Gods cleansing light
We are nothing
But shadows in an image of the divine

You werent always this human
This weak
The immortal soul inside
Looking out just beneath your icy gaze
Will always yourn for what it once held close
Forever is a long time.
Yet, they say,
to feel its endlessness
Is blissful.
..Ignorant?

Does the fragile chick long to leave the egg?
Or does it live without choice, forced by nature and instinct to carve its way to freedom?

In this way,
the deep recesses of your mind will always drive your mortal body forward.
A living machine
Gods true image

Pre-conceptions of me dont go away. Sympathy faded in the mist. Emotions anchored down in the abyss. Its hard to have faith in ones own beauty when I cant see. Especially when communication is riddiculed by paranoia. "why would they want to talk to me". "They think Im a freak and I deserve it". Irony, thrown into a ditch by myself. A chamber of cynical reflecion where I cant move. So, to deafen the hounds in my head. I use my hatred as a tool to suppress others protential. I make them disgusted with their own image. An excuse to project my flaws onto someone else. And feed the illusion that Im gods *******. Keep that ego intact so I dont need to look at myself. And realise that mabye Im a bit of a *****... However, I still have faith in something beyond myself.
Love.
Love still leaves me exposed to natures soothing melody. Blends reality and dreams together to manifest paradise. Noone a stranger to its bilengual call. Everyone showered in its waterfall.
Thats why when I dance I long for it to be with others. Because If I'm alone is it real? That is why experience is meant to be shared. If noone is there, did it really happen?