Being me? (written 6/18/08)
That we must take of what we can from this life
For what is absent I can write volumes about
To fill in the holes gaping wide
Of all that the heart desired and wasted sighs
Does it matter then I be great
For in my being great was my abstinence
Forced upon my being with hand of fate
When I would rather be wanton and wild
To inspire and rise, to shine galore
Was hardly a dream I aspired to, my friend
I would have been happy to be in the dark
and be, be with a myself, a mundane, tedious, trivial bore
but then how could I be that when these moments of perfections sneak upon me…
The moments of perfection – when the feeling that this is where I am supposed to be and this is perfect, this is my life and this is it and I am happy.. I am happy with what and who I am.. A moment that I pull over myself, wear it, breathe it, sing it. And then learn a way to recreate it again and again. But moments like these cannot be created, cannot be created by thoughts, books or conversations. Moment like this happen, when everything falls in place.. just like it is supposed to, as if a hand had written the destiny long ago about this place, about this time and about me being at this intersection. This magic happens and wonder of wonder, it happens when least expected, with only one condition that needs to be present – which is, I need to be present in the present. I need to be there when it happens …
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