'What was as light/ as breath/ turns captive/ and still./I grew up and abandoned/my fervor./ I pretended/ I wasn’t heroic./ I turned/ my volume/ down./ I wish someone had told me/ that cynicism may be intelligent/ but enchantment/ is wise.'
I humbly observe the wheel of time surrender and yet still hold on firmly to the steering wheel of desire.
What breath has given, one may never shed in the name of cause. A cause is nothing but the twist of a knob, a knob that may increase or decrease the volume of the unique set of words that perpetually dance around your head,
a cause is just a knob.
Breath can only be taken for the flame that abides in the heart of the box that holds all knobs. These tiny buttons that with a tender pressure return the kindness by caressing you back, these causes that may mean the world but are not the world you breath for... for what breath stands for is something of a divine figure -
something of a beauty that will remain untold.
A colorless heart of strings that when touched just right tangle up in the shape of everything that
smells,
cries and smiles
like love.
and love can be... such a tender thing, so tender it can never be toughen, it can never be broken, it can only embrace.
love is heroic.
***
