What am I?
Am I a heart that beats and bleeds with emotion?
Am I a brain that inquires and tries to liquefy the
complexities of life?
Or am I something that can not be seen, cannot be heard, and can not be touched by hand?
I am something that can not be described.
Something that can never be fully understood by the inanimate human mind.
But yet, I still say this is what I am, something intangeable.. unexplainable...untouchable!
With out this belief there is no basis for faith, no basis for hope!
The only thing that inhibits my ability to fly,
to make billions of dollars,
to be a knight who saves that beautiful princess,
is the number 16,
the hours I am awake.
One day I will rise and soar with the beasts of the air,
This is what I strive for, not to feel superior,
To feel the rush of accomplishment, to see how I fare.
Omens may come, Omens may go, I will pay no heed.
To their human spirituality, to this I show no care.
This spirituality which strikes fear and respect from the hearts of reeds.
They are quickly swayed and blown chaoticaly in the midst of a storm no contrare.
I am calm, my hand steady.
I fear only what I cannot write,
This may be the eagle
That watches me with eyes
That pierce me and leaves
Goosebumps rippling down my back.
Temptation, a vile death lies in front of me.
My mouth is dry and my heart longs for it.
I don't know why...it is only my soul that can see.
This is death, while it may quench my thirst,
It will lead to my demise.
It's listening, watching, waiting....
Determining the outcome, no debating.
I viewed him there struggling
And at my hand tugging.
He tried to gasp for air....
But he could find none anywhere.
His heart had stopped.
Six feet he was dropped.
It was a freaky thing,
Since he was only sixteen.
I tread lightly, heisatently, respectfully;
Through the hand of death. This is not for my body,
that I respect death. It would be a rashness of heart,
to say that I have no respect for death.
That I was not afraid of the prediciment of my soul.
