How to accept the resolve without the resolution
"You may say that I'm a dreamer... but I'm not the only one"
I find it extraordinarily frustrating that life and the interactions therein, are not based existentially on abstract thought.
Maybe faith, then, is the supreme exception.
I do not claim, not partially nor completely, to speak with certainty on that which is inexplicable, but the enigmatic and mysterious must be the basis by which we define the definitive. It seems, then, that life is a paradox. Thus any attempt to categorize behavior would be hypocritical rationale. How, then, do we speak with conviction or any fastidious matter and not account, even partially, for matters of the heart?
In my estimation, however small and ignorant, the heart remains the most unfathomable ambiguity in our small window of experience. Who can remain unchanged by the years and the tears therein? I would propose, with arrogant assurance, no one can own up to this claim. Even at a subconscious level, we are affective beings
(some more than others).
We are moved by the seasons, changed by the reasons,
and hurt by the treason of Love.
The logic of my mind and the longings of my heart are perhaps too incongruous to coexist. But at the exact point of separation, I also cease to be whole.
I am a student, trained by science, bound to logic, longing for love, and speaking in rhyme. There is no place for me here on earth that may either satisfy or accept this quandary. I am a walking contradiction and a troubling paradox. I cannot hold down a relationship due to this ostensible deception. Everyone thinks I’m hiding something and I cannot now, disagree. I am in very real danger of being found out and excommunicated.
My conclusion: I DON'T HAVE THE ENERGY TO CARE ANYMORE
Someone told me once...
Let people feel the weight of who you are...
and let them deal with it.
Who will save me if I cannot save myself?
Who can speak for me when I do not know my own words?
Who can call me by name when I do not understand the meaning within?
Who can take my hand when I hide it in my sleeve?
Who can soothe these tears when my fears have not relieved?
And how do I conceive, when conception cannot accost
For what I don’t believe?
I find it extraordinarily frustrating that life and the interactions therein, are not based existentially on abstract thought.
Maybe faith, then, is the supreme exception.
I do not claim, not partially nor completely, to speak with certainty on that which is inexplicable, but the enigmatic and mysterious must be the basis by which we define the definitive. It seems, then, that life is a paradox. Thus any attempt to categorize behavior would be hypocritical rationale. How, then, do we speak with conviction or any fastidious matter and not account, even partially, for matters of the heart?
In my estimation, however small and ignorant, the heart remains the most unfathomable ambiguity in our small window of experience. Who can remain unchanged by the years and the tears therein? I would propose, with arrogant assurance, no one can own up to this claim. Even at a subconscious level, we are affective beings
(some more than others).
We are moved by the seasons, changed by the reasons,
and hurt by the treason of Love.
The logic of my mind and the longings of my heart are perhaps too incongruous to coexist. But at the exact point of separation, I also cease to be whole.
I am a student, trained by science, bound to logic, longing for love, and speaking in rhyme. There is no place for me here on earth that may either satisfy or accept this quandary. I am a walking contradiction and a troubling paradox. I cannot hold down a relationship due to this ostensible deception. Everyone thinks I’m hiding something and I cannot now, disagree. I am in very real danger of being found out and excommunicated.
My conclusion: I DON'T HAVE THE ENERGY TO CARE ANYMORE
Someone told me once...
Let people feel the weight of who you are...
and let them deal with it.
Who will save me if I cannot save myself?
Who can speak for me when I do not know my own words?
Who can call me by name when I do not understand the meaning within?
Who can take my hand when I hide it in my sleeve?
Who can soothe these tears when my fears have not relieved?
And how do I conceive, when conception cannot accost
For what I don’t believe?