Everyday / Monday, September 7th, 2009

I woke up to a sea of mirages,
Morning dewed and
Happiness slewed
Through the dense foliage of a mind
That knows not what it seeks.

A desert of waves,
A chasm of moods
That seek their way
Through blind words
That play their tunes
On music that hears it not.

I lost. Miserably.
Lost the power of love
Lost the laughter of magic
Lost myself.

I lost peace; surrendered to pieces
Thwarted joy and embraced despair


Yet I know I have not truly lost
That the sea was not an inversion
Of a cruel play of images
Which never fitted into the surface

I had stamped my self
Prodded it with disgust
Loathed it with revulsion
Yet I loved it no less.
Yes, loved it no less.
My self has an other
A beautiful other.

That other is my self.
How much more could I loathe?
How much more could I despise?
Without loving it all the more?
Yes, without loving more.
Within me I am without
And I know what I am without.

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