I was trying to write a work with an entirely different subject in mind. It had to be something about the foolishness in hoping that things would be as we desire it.
What follows next is supposed to be the first paragraph that would serve as an opener, as the table where one would make a sacrifice, or a slaughter. But then I took a pause after I wrote these lines.
And there lies the rub.
Somehow, that pause made other changes and when I tried to get back and continue the original theme, I just could not find the ability to do so. Of course, its possible that I am not that strong, or I am just suffering from one of the problems that afflict a starving, struggling, striving poet: no its definitely not “writer’s block” (whoever came up with this writer’s block thingy sure is just plain loco in the cabeza) but its simply perhaps that I was just being lazy.
Still, I must admit that though it’s not what I had in mind, its not too shabby. I don’t know if I would do a revision, but for the moment, while I’m pausing my soul amidst all the gaps that the road ahead me is filled with, I am happy with this.
Hope it’s worth reading.
before your eyes
d. steine
before your eyes fell
on me with their smiles, i only
knew of a beast
in the shape of this man,
just like before your lips
and your fingers becoming each other
kissing and touching me, i never
knew that even scars could be
beautiful, their rough and old outlines traced
by your soft and young flesh.
there was only so much empty space
where i knew no one was listening until
you pressed against my voice
your delicate ears, shaped like sea shells.
there was only silence until in your voice
i heard the foam and frothing of far
away love raging in waves
to reach my abandoned shore.
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