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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 18:38:53 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 142815
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Never strong enough
[time] => 2008-05-30 14:54:25
[hometext] => always, abraham
[bodytext] => The words are never strong enough, the moment never long enough, the memories never fond enough. Always we find ourselves thrust into new experiences naked and un-forgiven, relentless in our pursuit of what we were, or what we could have been, or what we should have been, believing that what was defines what is, and what we could be becomes what we could have been once more. Love radiates from us, and yet we leave it undefined, afraid to get involved, afraid of vulnerability. We let our opinions, our ideas, get in the way, and we disregard what we really are, become so wrapped up in our own humanity, in the definition of our own nature that we fail to see what we really are, what we really can be. Love is indefinable in only that we cannot find the right words, and we cannot find the right words because we force ourselves to stay in the confines of a set of rules. We, each of us, define love, it stirs within us, and we urge our fingers to find the proper syllables, the proper structure, we divide our hearts into subtle intricacies, we strive to find the right words. To define love, we must define ourselves, and often we feel that will lead to heartache, and despair, and often we are unsure, but is not love often unsure, is not love often hidden beneath the face of pain? I am a small, thin man with blue eyes and a brown beard with a crooked nose and an over bite. I am cautious, even fearful, of the world around me. I am lonely, but I often isolate myself, I am cruel to the people that I love, and I have fought with that for many years. Trust comes hard for me, I have shown myself distrustful of those whom I have been intimate, and I am afraid I have not changed enough. That is who I am, but it is only what I have chosen to be. What I am, what I truly am, is so buried beneath the choices and decisions I have made that I have begun to believe that those choices, and the actions that I’ve taken are what define me, and thus what define my love, but it is not so. No, it is not the actions I take nor the choices that I make that define the thing that I’ve become, but the love, grief, and joy that as a child, began to grow in me at the first glimpse of a recognized dream. Still, I cannot find the right words to accomplish the significance and beauty that that dream holds, it is a bitter, black sunset breaching the edge of a white sky. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 234 [topic] => 48 [informant] => iodinelove [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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