The Cherished Forgotten
How is that real, real? Is pain real? Is love real? Are dreams real? Is time real?
How does something not real become real? Does one have to feel it, see it, taste it, hear it? Or just experience it in whatever way one experiences?
Can a thing be real to one, but fantasy to another?
- Reaching, but not grasping…
- Breathing, but not assimilating…
- Freeing, but not releasing…
- Redeeming, but not completing…
Who decides the person who is worthy to feel the unbroken movements of a child?
Who deserves the love of a soul resolute to be completely imprisoned voluntarily by their heart’s target?
Who chooses the fate of a widow?
Who creates the chaos we most often see in tumultuous choices made by the corrupt powerful?
Who decides when a captive has carried enough weight and is allowed to be set free?
When will I know if I have performed enough good to be able to deserve the love of an eye?
of a mind?
of a soft touch?
of a warm smile?
Is there enough good in my deeds to warrant that kind of treasured torture?
I don’t understand why some stumble upon the sweet sensuous gaze of a cherished soul, and others never find their true song.
People can live their entire lives listening to the wrong song bird.
What a fool is I.