I am but a moment.
You are forever.
The depth of my soul
Is unknown to me
But familiar to you.
I want to run--- but stay;
to feel---but be numb;
to do everything---but nothing;
I am a bird that doesn’t fly;
A fish that doesn’t swim;
A flower that doesn’t bloom;
I am a contradiction.
The very essence of uncertainty--
Of indecision.
I am the clay found within the dirt—
Wild and lifeless.
Mold me.
Guide me.
Make me.
Use me.
Show me my heart's desires.
Give me the eyes to see,
The ears to hear,
And the will to do.
For without your direction
I am but a tumbleweed.
Who is this? You commented on something of mine, but I have no idea who this is (I saw that we have a friend in common, so I figured you knew who I am). Do we know one another?
ReplyDeleteBy the way, this is a really good poem. I see what it is really meant to be, but I can pulls its meaning to molding into other things. Great work.