The Search

I am in search of what makes me whole.
Not externally, but to dig deep.

Perhaps I find coal,
coloring me dark and dirty.
And I burn,
glowing neon red before settling to ash.

Perhaps I find mineral,
rich and nourishing.
Turn me into salt and sand,
blended into the powder on your face, in your drink.
Take me in.

Perhaps I find some kind of precious stone.
Perhaps even diamond.
Hard and sharp, though thoroughly transparent.
Refracting dreams from edge to edge.

Perhaps I find nothing but natural gas -
shapeless, colorless, odorless.
Release into the air, thick and thin.
Dissipate and meld with the rest of nature;
as I am always a part of it, yet can feel so separated.

Perhaps the separation is with the self, rather than nature.
Perhaps it is uneasy to be me.
But it couldn't be easier being someone else.

Perhaps to be whole is not a digging,
but a realizing.
Is it something on the surface?
How do I read my face?
What energy lies beneath that has yet to rise up?
And when it does, do I then become?
Does the energy dissipate?  Or is it then embodied?
Or am I simply returning to my origin,
where I'd find where I belong,
where I am as I always was?

This photo of a little girl.
She is unbeknown to me.
Forever looking forward,
with one foot caught in the past.

Stuck in a single web of thought,
unaware of the dangers,
yet frightful, and mostly lost.
Perhaps to break free is to click my shoes thrice.
It is so simple.
Frustrated, at my own hesitation.

Ah, I get it.
These are the adventures of a thinker,
and the story's just begun.
The heroine is stubborn and unapologetic.
These are my shoes perhaps no one could put their feet in.

But I will wear them until the end.
And I hope when the end credit rolls,
it shall be a long list of persons and places,
with a beautiful soundtrack,
that I can finally, be truly grateful for.

http://thestwrd.com/post/69320615570