I'm uncertain
Where this hate really comes from.
It's like I'm searching for something that's not on a map.
And that map is made of empty signs and symbols.
Hate divides the borders.
I cannot understand why life has become an infinite ocean with a horizon marking some unknown point,
Outside or inside my vicinity?
I find the only way out is over, so the little boat we ride turns to heave itself to the other side of the world.
Meaning to get lost brings about the relief of worry.
Here, boards do not leak from cracks breaking out under our feet.
The voice in our heads mutes itself in awe.
And in this place, all of us as one can hear the quiet grumble of a sun just awakening--
Having kissed it's lover goodnight with firey lips of passion,
Then slept away its heated dreams till they escaped to the moons cool slumber.
In this mysterious time, I am cast astray.
Not meant to find land or water.
Not meant to find myself.
I stick to what I know, not me
but my surroundings.
There is comfort in the breath of the world but not so much in ourselves.
We think digging deeper will solve our discontent with shallow thoughts,
Maybe discover a few lost ideas swimming lazily in our streams of thought,
Lying hidden beneath a boulder having fallen from the heavy shoulders of a giant.
But I wonder
If we spend so much time searching in our own heads,
Do we leave the world impatiently waiting to be seen?
If we weren't such explorers of ourselves,
Maybe we'd swim to the other side of the world and still not think twice about finding our way back.
After all, isn't anywhere a good place to find something missing?
-s.l
YOU ARE READING
To Who I Am
PoesíaThis is me in words. It's not a story or pages of useless ranting. It's what I feel, what I think in the hours of class only my mind can escape. Because isn't escape what we live for? I just want it to exist somewhere. Here in these parts... Read o...
