Through some mysterious language, the pink, the abundances of your smile can talk to the depths of my silence. It makes me wonder though, question even – why are we here? Are we here to fill each other’s voids or do our own voids make us whole? Are we to come together in our respective wholenesses to do something and leave something behind for this world?
I don’t have answers, mostly only questions – sometimes not even questions. Sometimes, I’m left all to myself, wanting to cover my nakedness with the garb of questions if not explanations.
There is a pain that lives within me. Is it unwelcome? I can’t say that it is. It came to me when I had nothing else and nobody else to myself. It kept me full and alive, when I needed it. Letting it go or even wanting to let it go feels selfish, if not unsafe. What will I do without it? Isn’t it part of my identity, my name, my legacy now? Is it fair to want it gone, now that I have access to a semblance of joy, when it kept me warm in my coldest of nights.
A naysayer may say that it was the pain that brought about the cold nights, but that would be giving into false beliefs right! Right?
I like basking in the bright morning light, but I fear it makes me unfaithful to the dead darkness of the night which has so often cradled me to sleep. I find soothing the gentle tinkles in the folds of first few sunlight rays descending to humankind, but does it make me steal from what I owe to the whistling of midnight winds which have served my lullaby all too often.
Are there two worlds and can we belong to only one? Or are they not different after all? Is it that darkness is the void in the light, yet light is the void in the darkness? Is it that light and darkness breathe together, but are beings are too thick to fathom so?
Are the ties between light and darkness written in the same language that lets your smiling abundances speak to my silent depths?
Who knows my love? Who can ever tell?
Do we live in this world or does the world draw its breath from us? Am I separate from you and you from me? Are you and I, apart or together notwithstanding, separate from this world?
Do we exist here now, and some day cease to exist, or do we simply flow from the tangible and finite to the intangible and infinite?
Where does it all begin and where, if at all, does it all end?
Maybe its pointless to know or to want to know. Isn’t it enough that you have me and I, have you?
Yet again, who knows my love? Who can ever tell?
Urban Shaman 