Dedicated to a very special friend of mine who has always been here.
Someone who you know nothing about is a universe.
They are dynamic,
complex,
with infinite explanations, theories, and possibilities.
They could be anything,
they could do anything,
and there are no limits to the capabilities their mere existence creates.
Someone who you hardly know is a system.
They are predictable, even if they're not.
They will never be,
they will never stay,
and when you leave, they never follow.
They are a science,
there, but only just.
There is no question,
just thereness.
Someone whose arms always open to you is the world.
They have depth,
texture,
relation,
and when you leave, they cry,
they call,
they connect with a strong, invincible web.
None of these people, however, can compare with someone who is a piece.
When someone is a piece,
they are not the universe,
they are not the world,
they are not the thereness,
and they are not just.
Instead, they are the hereness,
the now.
They are not there for you,
they are here with you.
They are not just past,
they are past, present, and future.
They do not follow,
they do not even move.
They are a piece.
Not a piece of you,
but a piece of yourself.
They are a piece of what makes you yourself.
They are a piece of your happiness,
a piece of your sadness,
a piece of your sense,
and a piece of your confusion.
They are a piece of your love,
a piece of your hate,
a piece of your logic,
and a piece of your absurdity.
They are a piece of your memories,
your purpose,
your drive,
a piece of yourself is what they are.
World's are too physical to be associated with them,
and the universe is too abstract.
They are what's real,
and also what's very much unreal-
touched, yet untouchable all the same.
There is no word in the English dictionary to describe them
that would do them justice.
No word so powerful,
so important,
could pertain to these people.
The only word I can describe them as, is here.
Always and forever
they are here.
YOU ARE READING
Emanations Of The Heart
PoetryΞ if actions speak louder than words why is the pen mightier than the sword Ξ
