I went down
looking for you,
carrying my lamp
but tripping over your shadow.
Our withered embrace
reclaimed my lost tears.
But I –
too slow
to arrange them,
saw only your fractured gaze
spinning roulette-like
through the wet.
Handcuffed now,
cornered,
and free,
you won’t spend an empty second
wondering – when you’re moved
by
the words –
what it is that’s
really
moving you,
and where.
.
Does anyone really ever know?
A
Maybe not. Maybe these things can only be felt. But I think it’s worth wondering…worth consciously asking oneself the questions. Sometimes there is much to be gained in the asking.
I mean, I know what moves me. Or do I?
A
Well, yes, that’s the question. And so one needs, as best as one can, to somehow determine if the source of one’s movement is genuine or false.
Sometimes, we simply jump and as we soar through the open cloudless sky, our heart will beat so quickly, we’ll know exactly where it is.