Nature’s not swift to answer this inquirer who’s interested,
it keeps him at bay;
gives just subtle responses—
to keep him from making the chase.
Especially when the season’s damned.
Like the rain,
with its clairvoyance and surreal timing—
it always falls in conjunction with my tears.
And, I ask,
“Why such antilogy, between state and responsibility?”
Why do I have to be bounteous in providing,
when I have the same deficiencies?
Why such dichotomy?
Why do I have to helm this power, of which I can never be a recipient?
I don’t even have to sniff to tell when something’s off,
I know exactly what your ears want to eavesdrop on,
even if you try your hardest not to let it on,
I know everything your mouth redacts, and everything to which your eyes give a pass.
I can emulate and even paint my heart the same blue,
to understand what you’re going through.
But what’s the use?
I’m not being ungrateful,
please don’t misconstrue…
It’s just distasteful—
when everyone’s blind to the parts of myself that I have to lose,
just for their breakthrough.
I am never able to find the way back to myself,
whenever I reacquaint someone with their truest self.
Will Graham—
will he find his way back to his own abode?
Doubtful,
as he jumped in too!
Heightened empathy didn’t brace him for the fall,
and now nobody knows his whereabouts.
He made about every chase,
all the while running from himself,
but nobody came for his save,
and now he’s probably slain by the same antlers that petrified him.
But God only knows.
What if I follow in his footsteps, unbeknownst?
What if I’m haunted by the same ghost?
Oh, cursed is my existence,
so, I wail.
My heart’s wretched from past layers,
it becomes more beautiful with every new wreckage,
Ugh!
What do I do with it?
Don’t know…
So, I wail and I wail.
Then it rained,
Nature’s way of numbing my pain…
but it won’t work today!
This blue is devilish,
it’ll consume me if somebody doesn’t come for my save,
the hero will fall again today.
And he indeed did;
I slipped as the thunder struck.
Useless adrenaline kicked in only after a moment too late,
I was out of luck!
Now I’m gasping while falling midair,
ironic how I can’t breathe even after overdosage,
air’s screaming in my ears louder than I am,
and my tears, my spit can no longer follow my mouth open.
And splat!
After the blackout,
I could still feel me,
faint yet prominent,
like the break of dawn after a moonless night.
I thought it was the end,
but somebody had saved me,
dragged me out of these mud pools of self-pity.
It was a Stag, golden.
And as I eyed it,
it paced forth and drew closer,
and it caressed me.
Stroked me gently and sent me to sleep with an inner vision.
I asked the angelic voice glowing inside my head,
”Why was I cursed?”
It replied with a sweetness unparalleled,
”My Love, it was for your own protection.”
And I regained from the comatose, half-baffled.
The Stag had left when I’d woken,
so, it took a while to make sense of the revelation.
But the first thing I saw after that certainly was a token—
a rare bloom flower,
that had got a new life in the soil of its dead past selves.
It marked the beginning,
the beginning of the rewriting.
I finally understood what I bring to the table,
I finally understood why I can't reduce my passion to the mere shedding of layers,
why I can’t limit my standards of devotion,
why I can’t depend on anyone—forever.
It's a curse meant for my protection, because it’s preeminent.
Ah!
Nature, you did your thing.
Composed my stellar new theme by playing on my heartstrings—
well worth the risk.
Now I can see wood for the trees,
and waves for the ocean.
Now I know where Graham was coming from and where he might’ve ended up…