Transient and unformed
I'm not a poet, a writer,
a story-teller, a falsifier,
a leader, a follower,
a friend, an enemy,
a fighter, a lover--no, definitely, not a lover.
I've only dreamt about loving--
Passionate stories of men and women chasing after their desired “one.”
I’ve only dreamt of the tender caress of someone’s mouth on my mouth.
I’m only ever dreaming.
Half fulfilled and half wanting,
I sometimes feel I’ve had my fill of the world.
I sometimes feel I want nothing of it.
But I do want.
I want to feel everything but discontent.
I want understanding of pleasures incomprehensible.
I want to be a glutton of experience.
Then, I will turn my head to the heavens and laugh and
yell with wicked abandon,
“You can take me now, my friend, for I have feasted and I have been satisfied.”
And then I will be exalted in the arms of my father
And he will be pleased.
“You have known what I have known,”
He will tell me and touch my cheek
And I will not weep as I do now.
I will cast aside his form and sit triumphantly as a king.
And he will love me.
All will love me.
And I will be pleased.
