i remember how you found me digging through boxes in my closet one day.
'what're you looking for?' you asked.
'i'm not sure,' i replied.
you looked at me, confused. 'you don't know what you're looking for?' you asked. i only shook my head.
because i never know what's missing or what i'm looking for; only that something is lost. misplaced.
but maybe the only thing misplaced is me.
-
'what do you think of yourself?' you asked me the next day.
'what do you mean?' i replied.
'i mean,' you paused for a moment. 'how do you see yourself?'
a telephone was ringing on the t.v. in the silence that dragged on. you turned away from me, and i could tell you didn't expect me to reply.
i didn't, either, but i surprised both of us.
'well,' i said. 'maybe... maybe i'm a fish born without gills. or maybe i'm a bird that refuses to fly. maybe i'm a treasure chest, locked and full of surprises - or maybe i'm just empty.
maybe i'm like fog, confusing and mindless and almost impossible to see through. or maybe it's only impossible because no one tries to see within it. maybe i'm a raincloud, dark and waiting to drown out the world in rain and thunder.
but mostly, i think i'm a ship, lost at sea and without a lighthouse.'
you didn't reply, and the telephone rung on in the silence that followed.
-
today, i woke up to a note on my pillow. it said:
you are none of those things. all you are is You - but that's better than all of those combined.
and even if you were a lost ship -
well, i'll always be willing to be your lighthouse.
me myself and INon si insegna quello che si sa o quello che si crede di sapere, si insegna e si può insegnare solo quello che si è (Jean Jourès) |
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Post N° 163
Post n°163 pubblicato il 08 Gennaio 2009 da b.starda
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