How I long to be the sun…
I am such a dichotomy of prisms, multi-faceted in a way that confuses me, the observer.
I keep looking into myself and finding only tunnels, web-like hallways leading in all directions. There is such mystery here, and clutter. I am an open book, but not to myself. I am an open book to only that which I let out and that which I allow in. Even as I share so much, I hold eternity inside. I worry, when I have all the reasonings harvested of why not to worry. I fear, when I have all the reasonings set out of why not to fear.
I am this pendulum; this constant pendulum. I know not what moves me, but I am continually moved. At times I feel I become the person you are. At times, so many times, I lose the person I am. I absorb the world, all of the ingredients brought into me; and then I am left, in my loneliness, both awe-inspired and drowning in pain of recognition.
I see too much. I feel too much. I know too much. And there is no remedy.
I am the heap of pain that one carries on his shoulders. I am the sorrow of the mistress. I am the angst and guilt of the destroyer. I am the pillager weeping at the joyful bounty. I am the child in the glee-filled park. I am the mountaineer on highest peak. I am the widow crying at the grave. I am the tie tightened around my very neck, chocking me from the outside, to match the fury of pain within.
I am enveloped in need and then enveloped in release. I am tortured by thoughts and misery, and then let free by understanding and the depth of beauty. I am unstable, yet stable in my instability. I am consistent in my varying degrees of emotions. A spit-fire of desire brought to tender knees by only the touch of your words.
I am affected by all and none. This silence speaks to me. And the loudness hurts. I am the fury in your eyes. I am the heartache in your bosom. I am that raw pain that eats away at you. Time and again I rise, some mercenary to the many; unable to stop my vengeance; my need to take revenge, to beat the rhythms of my own soul down.
I am anger. I am rectification. I am renewal. I am lust. I am all this and more. And they merge and spin inside of me, claiming their take, and taking more than was offered. I eat of myself, devouring the agony.
If only I could find a way to balance the esteem of you with the esteem of my own being. If only I could find a way to stop the pain you feed me. Your naked trembling fear. To unchain the leash that takes me to the dark side of my own moon.
How I long to be the sun, the perfect sun shining overhead; and then with one touch, without consequence, to set free with flame this yearning for rescue.
~ Sam 3/20/13
3 thoughts on “343: How I long to be the sun”
this is so beautiful. it resonates showers of harmonics and overtones for me. thank you for this.
When I read your words, usually an image forms in my mind. This time a tune is forming, far away a melody is comming to me-and I can feel it.
A lovely piece of writing that I can very much relate to Thankyou