How is it that anyone can stay knowledgeable, when there are so many lives entrusted in care. Does he have to stay at a distance? Can life ever be this engaging? Must the depths of knowledge be reached, with Drink, Drug or Lust wrapped in secrets. I’ve been hit with my fortunes of longing, stopped as if slapped, struggling with care and trust. I don’t want to be closed off from questions that don’t belong, realizing I have no assurances. The wonder’s in waiting for my truth, waiting to evolve. I have finally realized I’ve passed, dying to my truth. I am living too many adult days, without retreating? Is this my only prayer? I’m old perhaps in years only. Listening with new ears and fresh eyes looking within.
I rip open my heart to be seen. It’s only timing which escapes hands holding on too long, hands clasping and pulling as I reach to be touched. The telling of one more secret lodged within the space I call home. Looking at what you tell me. Do I know who you really are, in touch to every corner, as if your power directs my walk. How has this happened in the walls of your studio?
