Être:
A Dialogue Between the Fire and the Shell
“It wasn’t right, but it was right on time.”
But what was I on time for?
Is the song for my mother, behind the closed door?
There snores my father — but the walls are thin
He snores through life — he’ll snore to the end
Will I be great, from the corner I love?
Can I be a stove, lighting this nook,
The shadowy nook where my song soars out of?
Do my words fly? Do my words fall?
A poor lump of clay beside a statue tall —
Does the statue laugh at a glimpse of past days?
Will my heart suffer again the beating of
A tyrannical brain,
My encroaching mind,
Will it stand, oh, rise! Again?
Will happiness come to me still?
My innate fire parade its will,
on body and soul,
and bring forth these sparks — these thoughts?
I love the mind more than expressed —
Get Thoughts from an Ambivert’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
The mind of greater ones, that is — and yet
My own is what delivers despair.
I sit and wish for what can’t be,
Though my better self calls to me,
And begs me to bring back my spirit’s life.
Its core is learning for learning’s sake
creating of my soul, to make
Another’s whole.
here I wish for what I love to love me back —
People, arts, Music, hearts —
For desire to bring its shining equal in gain.
I tell myself, “This I’ll never see,”
“This desire cannot come to me.”
But, this aching no words will contain.
It is beyond my power still, to ascribe to
My Art this stinging aspiring
In my being,
And so the aspiration pains my soul.
Well, was I right on time?
Will a soul, just one, be made entire by
The outpouring of this heart of mine?
Or will my blazing yearning consume my
Shell-like frame and leave, to flicker and fade
The flame I sought all along?
