sometimes i wonder if this is wrong.
i crave this dynamic, tangling and guiding; healing and so much the opposite.
is it selfish to say that i wish i was the one? is it stupid to wish to carry this burden?
it would only be fair, if i must go through this, time after time, that i take this title.
i see myself, in daylit dreams and wanderings, being the arms that give the comfort.
i see myself, in troubling thoughts and sleepless nights, bloodied and vanishing.
in truth, i have always lived this duality.
if i'm to believe there's meaning behind all this, why couldn't this be 'the calling' for me?
some days my hands feel as if made for cradling the dying, and caressing the wounded.
some nights my body feels as if made to be found, near the final hour, and held with loss.
i'd be useful, showing the path for those who leave, to never return.
Hermes.
i'd be prettier, shallow breaths and red-wet smiles in your chest.
Hyacinth.
