I'm here.
Would it be conceited for me to say
I've never been anywhere else?
I've always been here, though I have to admit
I've been carried, without the permission of our planet,
For Twenty and One lengths of a circumference around that
Flaming body of a so-called star.
Whom still manages to be incapable of enough warmth
during the particular times,
though it has had the credibility of consistence.
I'm not saying I don't want to be
--and not meaning to come off as difficult,
but I wouldn't mind in the least if I could be,
Here, and at the same time
Capable of truthfully adding the two words:
With You
Once again--
Its about that time of hour.
The kind that lasts the length of a childhood,
Subtract the number of clueless teenage years.
To then be left on the empty plate of a University student, such as myself,
who has a proclivity to be quite picky when it comes to what is ingested.
And finally, before stepping across the stage towards what has previously
been etched out by life, be suffocated in a simple, indebted cardboard box.
Can we, please? Just take a moment of silence.
So we can hear the dying breaths of my dream.
"Everything is a pathway: Movement is the goal"
Hey. We're not lost--we're just not there
Yet. Don't fret your little heart
Because. If you take that first step,
Perhaps. As much as tendency loves to lie
Down. Is still a route such like
Up.
Left.
Right.
Nevertheless,
Let me show you how;
We don't have to be ephemeral
--if we take it upon us move.
It seems: "She doesn't know how to say what's bothering her"
They dangled her lips as bait
Oh so perfectly so, just out of reach.
It seems that she had not only lost her say
But she was also no longer the master of her voice.
What she found capable was a sad
--such a sad, sad smile
as the proceedings carried on
To the point the sun which had,
all this time found its lodge
in the middle of her throat,
finally drowned and became
splinters of granite endorsing
the diagnosis of her mute.
Do you know of the vast sky above us?
How it so impends above us and is ever stretching beyond the eye can see.
In all directions, it is his world and element of breath.
Is there nothing freer than the lack of limitations?
Do you know of the broad sea before us?
How responsive and vulnerable as it synchronizes a tempest teeming with fury.
In all directions, it is her cage and fundamentals of living.
Is there no state of power comparable to one deceived to confinement?
As it turns out, He was an angel and She, a mermaid.
They were fated since before creation to be separated
by the horizon forever set between the sea and sky.
It seems some things in life appear indestructible
No matter how grueling, our human hands cannot break them.
Thus, our hands must be destructible
They at least appear to be the cause of destruction certain times.
But y'know. . .
If I don't let go of your hand,
How are you going to be able to hold the hand of someone else?
. . . Someone who truly loves you?
And so says Hobbes:
Take thus all away.
Thus being all variables being influential.
Thus being, ultimately, God & Law.
Tumult, conflict; Self preservation as the First Natural Law.
Protect myself from my greatest enemy-me.
Hobbes is mistaken, so says Locke:
There is no violence amongst our heart.
Peace is desirable and what we so seek is solitude.
As created, we endeavor to create.
Things along the perimeter of property.
A right, to so we such beings are endowed.
And I so say, as a friendly warning:
He to whom I lend my sword to kill my own foe,
may, near the end, with it kill me.
I know we've had this conversation before
I'm sure you're quite weary when I mention these words.
However, after much contemplation and myself,
Being the more initiative out of the two of us
(or was it three? I suppose you did have the prominent memory)
It was only the interval it took for one more pilfered breath,
Before I simply had to ask
Or else let it destroy me from the inside out,
Are we really different?
I concur, perhaps our interactions,
and must you really mention our outward demeanors...
But you certainly cannot mean to deny,
The part where we're just human?
That was the moment I discovered myself: Infatuated
& Face to face with something not quite what we call "love"
But a situation closer to the definition of serendipity.
And what I did next, would you believe?
& With this comprehension that has always,
For a length of time that hasn't quite reached forever,
Was finally and formally configured into the words:
Life never was an equation to solve.
It was nearing the end of the work day.
The doctor only had a single patient left to examine.
The nurse brought him to the room and there he found
an individual with overbearingly plain features and
an even plainer dress of clothing.
The doctor was not affected by this outside appearance,
as he had been in the field for a long many years.
It was quite often that these sorts of people come
to his office as he was quite a generous man.
Perhaps he could be described as "good."
What are your complaints?
Do you see them?
Who?
They're everywhere. In this room. I'm sure one can be hiding behind you too.
When did you start noticing these symptoms?
Doctor, they've always been around. Do you really not see them?
I'm afraid I don't.
That's a pity. Are you suffering from a lack of imagination?
I woke to the sound of trumpeting stars and peeked through
my windows to find an illustration of peculiarity.
& it wasn't until after stepping out the door
to walking next to flowers, and then running after the winds
to crossing stretches of plains and climbing robust mountains
it wasn't until I saw places mentioned in fairy tales & books
or immersed in a fraction of the everlasting seas
and eventually ended up standing in the same predicament
I so delightfully had the chance to begin in
is the moment I ultimately began to believe
the world to be round.
There is no jurisdiction in this enclosure where
Tatters of veiled twine continuously persist
That he, with such a charming disposition,
Should often keep company to a gravity that
is able to move him without moving him
With quite such a persuasive momentum
-and it isn't until he finally realizes his last choice
To then, lay on his back & drowsily close his eyes
against the even span of apathetic cerulean
-and allow the light to be obscured by a delicate set of doors
That everything just finally stops.
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