A Generous Soul

The perplexity with which it all started is slowly winding down. Starting to make sense without the probability of error. Without the confused and zigzagged ideas, the over complication that left you saddened at best. Little light was seen. It looked hopeless for too long. It made you look dumbfounded, left a scar that will surely never heal. You will never heal. You will merely learn to imitate everything you see around you. That will be enough. For a surprisingly long time, that will do. Your tangled knots will not show, will not hurt. You will be celebrated for your achievements and your health. Take those words and burn them. In the furnace of your raging soul, use those words to fuel the response. Use those words to burn.

There you are, standing alone. This is a beautiful sight, how I have missed you. There are no signs of your battles. Your face is smooth. As smooth as the rising sun. I decided to only give, forget my old ways of taking, burry the memories of a selfish existence. What is it that you need? Can I give you what you want? These words will help. Sprinkle them over the bits that have not yet healed. I could fall in love with you in a second. I stop myself, but can only just. You pull me into your ways so dear and I forget to hold back, to look ahead, to remind myself of the pain that always follows. Here you are, in your full beauty, pointing at me, waiting to waltz right over. I take a step towards you, then retreat. Scared, wiser by the scars, quiet since you left me. Silent since you left me.

We resist. With all the power we can think to conjure, we resist the temptation, the chance to change for the worse. I resist you, in turn you resist me. There is me in everyone you meet. We grow stronger with time spent apart. No longer is it thoughtless and intoxicating. No longer do you loose your head. No longer am I blind sighted by your magnificent ways. What you do now is significant. It is important and crucially visible. You will leave your imprint on these malleable souls. They yearn the words, they yearn the notes.

It is simple, easy to navigate. Your task has been set, the path is straight, lined with allies. Draw your compass and head your troops down the road that has been lit. I may or may not await at the end. The journey is what serves the purpose, not the destination. You give your kind soul to these strangers who take all of you. Not even a question, not a flinch in the other direction. You bow in servitude and tightly hold the pole which fixes your roaming feet to that exact place, that particular time. Here I am unable to change you, broken by the lost time and begging for a new beginning. This time I will iron out the creases from your imperfect ways, watch as you leave with a curious smile and give in to the darkness beckoning with the last song sung at your departure. As simple as it ought to be, I leave to find a more generous soul, a better teacher, a kinder companion.