Such a risky, yet beautiful feeling…place of liberation…cage of uncertainty deeming the host a target, or a recipient of a blessing beyond explanation…exacting control over things unable to be controlled.
We are often on the pursuit of the treasure of this mysterious realm. How can something so powerful cause such feelings of powerlessness?
Addictive. The inability to receive the next hit causes you to grasp. Grasp for something spiritual…for something, or someone that will temporarily fill the gap. But it won’t be enough.
Why does it never feel like enough, or obtainable from the one you exposed your vulnerability to? Often times you question: Is it truly better to have loved? Or should our perspective, and consumption of it be modified? Heck, if I know.
What I do know is there is peace within its presence. Pain in its uncertainty and denial. Hope and motivation in its reciprocity. And it’s the Total Composition of Me.
So what’s causing me to question my liberation? What’s causing me to question what I do freely and easily give authentically? Long pause.
Answer: This love seems alien to others. I’m the foreign body that can’t be made sense of. I’m growing accustomed to a destiny of loneliness. Acceptance stands at the doorway. Internal Strength increases. No tears are shed…in public. My journey and experience with others is fleeting. A position of Melancholy. Tiptoeing between happiness and emptiness. A closing lover’s heart. An open tablet and a pen to capture the conversation.
maybe be I should’ve kept your beauty to myself…loving in doses outside of exposing myself …maybe I should run away while you are loveless….writing is processing the world around me… Write on… Write on.