Whether it’s my death or resurrection, I will still be a body not worth making more than a lesson

every time I reach for more, I’m left with remnants such as faint hand holds ….. colored glares…. fleeting words like ….. I’ve never met someone like you or …. I can finally be myself around you

all things that fly right through me because my presence ends when the page turns

so I am happy that I can be of favor in your world colored of grays and mute behavior

to that one final night where you finally saw right through me and wrote a transcript where my soul lies

but i’ve chosen not to read it since

it hurts too much to be understood and cherished but not the soul meant to color your way or run circles in the flower fields of life we’ve created to spite that world of gray

I am the pebble in the lake

I am the lightening in the storm

I am the effect that is felt but will pass

so I hold my hand in broken glass in hopes that the pain of that will make it last

“When I turn my mind’s eye upon myself, I understand that I am a thing which is incomplete and dependent on another and which aspires without limit to ever greater and better things” – Reńe Descartes