I am not

I am not perfect
I am not yet wise, although wisdom lives within me.
I am not sure.
I am not a poet, nor a song writer.
I am not somebody who knows anything.

I have all these feelings, and emotions, inside my head.
I am indecisive.

People seem to look towards me for guidance.
I look towards you.

I used to want answers,
but I am slowly realizing that you have none.
You are simply following, the light that we both know to be true.
It's all obscure, and it makes no sense.
Every experience with these castles, those high appointed..
leaves me with more answers, but  more questions.
A paradoxical paradox.

It doesn't have to make sense to be beautiful.
Endless trickles of exasperated exhaustion.
Endless fickle of the imagination,
angsting for truth, but isn't it all truth?
What's the point in choosing dark spaces?
You don't have to fight for light, you just have to believe it's there.
Trust me, I know even that is easier said than done sometimes.
Why would your own mind beg for you to wither?
Whispers from your own pits, forcing you to fits.
But that is not you, your mind is below you.
Find your voice within.
Do it for yourself.




Today,