is it "crazy",
or just an awareness,
a fourth dimensional layer, invisible,
like an extra sensory perception?
i "just knew" this world,
we humans occupy
was a pretty awful place
and it's the people who make it that way
not nature, not trees, not animals, not their fault
as the saying goes "people ruin everything"...
and yet there was love
and intricate trees, dog, cats, horses
other, although rare,
filled with a light,
an innate sensitivity
that called to, spoke of
almost otherworldly things
didn't realize others didn't see
the world like me
(you mean everyone doesn't live
for, to give love?)
in the greater, grander scheme
all the time spent within
meant, i may be somewhat a success
at being a caring, if cut up, soul
(although overly caring, time again,
but that I'd be an utter failure
at the game, real life
success, it seems, comes easier
to most, not overly preoccupied
with being so god damned
"sweet" and nice
to say nothing of the war inside
the darkness in me,
a split down the center
vacillating between them,
light/dark, I've no choice
but to fight
for every scrap of joy and hope
to stave off the scar blind
tendency , "grab rope"
to hang myself, of the overthinking,
overly intense, overly thoughtful emotional scope
i just don't get it,
the why i am me
sick of it, bones and skin
that trap me here
always seeking a new way
to become someone else,
"not in the cards"
smiled the sea of ever watching
but blessed, i had found, some true friends
those fellow "prone to the throne
of feeling fractured, at wits end"
of simply trying,
amongst the perpetual denying,
surrounded by a swarm of bees
brings the simply aspiring
to be a better man, woman, here
to their exhausted,
war worn knees.
(off the mark, off the map
if you find yourself here, a heart
who places immeasurable value
in all the littlest things
and the live to hope just to love
the state of tiny magic, live to
bring a smile, and a sense you, yes,
were heard, felt, seen)...
and hand you the stars
that you refuse to see
you handed to me.
the mystery of what
"undeserving", does it mean?
who put that in you?
like a knife in the fight just to believe your own dreams
therein lies the embankment
created to separate you
and me, from you, because i get it, i do
somehow your troubles, i relate to them, struggle seen
(in our minds we create, cultivate
secrets and worlds, made of monsters
and ghosts, the past, the present,
so many things, to deny ourselves
the beautiful we might experience,
the song of a love pure, innocent, it sings)
you are heaven on fire.
and all i had hoped for
but never knew,
until the day came
that found me alive, awake inside these eyes
in multi-captivated ways
for you, this undying admire.
(fellow fragile human, how you hide it well
your own multispectral story to tell)
bowen hart roselli
26 november 2020
the realm of the poetic.
prisoner of the psyche and the inescapable. heart.