Wind carving Sole
Passing by and passing through...
Touching me and touching you...
I know without a doubt I reshuffled your view of reality...
I know it wasn't as comfortable as you are accustomed to...
As you're the one who's experienced in this...
Touch for a moment and never again.
I'm the one who's like a dragon.
Collect and horde, keep and cherish
- my precious, my sparks, my glittery bits...
I resent the reality which stole this spark from my horde.
It was not the most shiny.
It had the tar of neglect.
It was not the most durable.
It had scars of misuse and pockets of regret.
It was not overly kind or pettable or pretty.
It had odd spots, rough bits, and marks of broken dreams...
It was not even the most useful or had any other distinguishing feature
For an eye other than my own...
But it's presence is missed and remembered.
Brave you were to reach and touch,
Especially once you realized it burned...
Because you reached out again.
And you hung on.
Perhaps I was foolish in thinking that you were braving the burn,
Since you were thinking more along thoughts of self destruction.
I am not sad I left you more whole than when I met you.
I am sad that you left more broken than I see you.
There is no sadness in me for causing you discomfort...
Or for opening your eyes to things which you hide from yourself.
No regret, as I would do it again in an instant.
There is no sadness in cracking a shell and birthing a chick
-too tired to peck its way out of its egg.
There is sadness to not be there when it learns to soar away.
There is sadness that if you've fallen along the way...
I don't know if anyone else would see what I saw.
I can only hope...
I keep the faith.
Does everyone else call that belief?
Touching me and touching you...
I know without a doubt I reshuffled your view of reality...
I know it wasn't as comfortable as you are accustomed to...
As you're the one who's experienced in this...
Touch for a moment and never again.
I'm the one who's like a dragon.
Collect and horde, keep and cherish
- my precious, my sparks, my glittery bits...
I resent the reality which stole this spark from my horde.
It was not the most shiny.
It had the tar of neglect.
It was not the most durable.
It had scars of misuse and pockets of regret.
It was not overly kind or pettable or pretty.
It had odd spots, rough bits, and marks of broken dreams...
It was not even the most useful or had any other distinguishing feature
For an eye other than my own...
But it's presence is missed and remembered.
Brave you were to reach and touch,
Especially once you realized it burned...
Because you reached out again.
And you hung on.
Perhaps I was foolish in thinking that you were braving the burn,
Since you were thinking more along thoughts of self destruction.
I am not sad I left you more whole than when I met you.
I am sad that you left more broken than I see you.
There is no sadness in me for causing you discomfort...
Or for opening your eyes to things which you hide from yourself.
No regret, as I would do it again in an instant.
There is no sadness in cracking a shell and birthing a chick
-too tired to peck its way out of its egg.
There is sadness to not be there when it learns to soar away.
There is sadness that if you've fallen along the way...
I don't know if anyone else would see what I saw.
I can only hope...
I keep the faith.
Does everyone else call that belief?