So i couldn’t write, for my mind was blur and my eyes were blinded by tears,
My words were at pain for it was their desire that was met by a cold stare,
It is of good they spoke, of love they cried but silence they got. The heart was at limbo, the place it went not to feel, its habit to feel so deep and get disappointed yet keep feeling, weaker than the spirit wanted, for the spirit was filled with the hope that all was well, but then the body was in doubt, was it not that over and over it had journeyed through the same path, but then hope.
So my hands couldn’t write, for the mind was scared of expressing that which it felt, for it is by the words written that most desired to stay far from the body, for this vessel spoke of its mind, few would stand that. The thoughts were mistaken at times, seeing smoke where there ain’t no fire but the inner self knew of some truth, for is it not words and actions that go together?
The unspoken words louder than the dead actions, but of hope my spirit was. Determined to not let go to hold on a little longer, if only for a change, so my spirit hoping for the butterflies to rekindle, for the fire to not die, for a prove that it was cared for. For action, it was too early to give up, but then the crocodile has never gone to a fight without its tail. This journey you just cannot tour alone.
So it was the hope when am tired, when torn and beaten, when in doubt, when wrong, when my feet wouldn’t walk no more, when i feel like a burden, when i feel like am being let go, the voice would always be there to say, ” i care, i love, am to pick you up, lets keep moving, we are gonna be fine, above all am not letting you go.”
So i couldn’t write, but a friend said, “Make it an inspection and instead of expressing with tears, convert em to words” so i wrote a parable. I hid it for one who understood, to say of a desire, apologetic of a me that was undesirable, but aware of the me worthy of a queens treat. I wrote with the desire to know, just what the heart felt, for i couldn’t write.