It feels like nothing, but it’s everything

In time, you may come to realise
that there’s a certain languidness to every step I take,
to every breath I swallow, to every glance I cast.
I see nothing of the future, nor am I in a hurry to reach one.
I see everything of the past, because reliving is just as beautiful
and wonderful as living.
I see something of the present – but I’m not sure what it is yet.

I wonder, if you knew all this, knew of the way I take my time with things
like a car that’s pulling to a stop,
would you portray me in the way they do?
Would you spell me in a sentence,
write down the hypothesis to my destination –
which is none at all, they say,
because apparently, ambition does not fuel me and I’m illogical in the way I think,
an anomaly in graphs wandering straight.

Or will you be the first to read between the lines?
Will you see that I dream but do not plan, that I’m driven by a different goal?
Will you see that I search for something else,
something that proves the truth of miracles, the taste of purpose, the life of meaning?
Will you know that my destination is a person?

That I’m lost in an internal maze
and I’m looking for a pair of arms to hold me up
and take me to the sky
into the mess of coherence,
of knowing without knowing, of smiling just because.

I’m languid in the way I savour
the complexity of everything
but one day, one day I want to understand
the simplicity of the complex.

I’m an anomaly but so is she and so is he and so are they
and so is the mind that’s forgotten who it is.
If you drew a straight line from the centre, no one would touch upon it,
those who try to are sliced apart because they lost themselves
in the trend of wearing an outfit of convention.

So I say again, that in time, you may realise I’m not quite right
in the head
but I’m not quite wrong either:
I’m not interested in this constructed reality
which is harsh and cold and muddled with cynicism.
I want to construct my own version of something real:
beyond the lies we tell ourselves in the confines of conversation
I imagine something as real as simply this.

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2 thoughts on “It feels like nothing, but it’s everything

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