Desire and struggle
a poem
What it is you desire,
what can’t you bear to let go of?
I heard writing is your profession,
But I don’t see you working when you write.
I see you breathing when you type.
I see the mystical blue light of magic flowing in your eyes.
I’ve witnessed your trembling hands, skin aglow with the soul’s white essence,
I have seen you writing on pages and screens as you pour your heart out,
How can I now trust the words of others around me?
What it is you desire,
what it is that keeps your body from resting.
I heard you read and listen to music to pass the days and nights,
But I can’t seem to believe it.
I’ve observed you engrossed in a book, gliding your fingertips over the pages as if someone caressing a cherished love with a passionate touch to tell their partner they are the pinkish peace of their life.
I have seen you listening to music, flowing, melting, and burning as the melodies consumed you.
I saw you crying while singing the emotions words hold as the lyrics proceed.
How do I believe now that they are the source to just pass your time when I have seen you change the pace of your timeline to let them consume you, to let them drown you so you could feel things sometimes?
What do you desire,
what transforms you into an unstable easel?
I’ve heard you’re often labeled as weird, not fitting in either heaven or hell.
How do I not stop such labels from attaching themselves to you?
How could one resist witnessing your emotions turning into big droplets of water in your eyes as you see the rain hitting the ground, or when you smell the moist soil after rain has left its mark on the land?
When you see a baby playing, when you feel the passing wave of breeze and close your eyes,
When you touch me and I see the white beneath the black behind those defenses,
When you burn, I see the water droplets slowly moving and dancing around the high flames of fire.
How could I believe the rest when I have seen you with my soul, felt you with my senses, and breathed the same air as you?
Share your desires, lies, and truth with me,
Because I can’t believe the rest when they claim to know you, as every fiber of my body and soul have closely felt you think otherwise.
