you were bright as day as my skin would recall,
a warmth so deep, to you i long to crawl,
you're so close and yet so far,
my eyes are like binoculars of faith, but barred.
a journey much like reality,
truthfulness as the sun's intensity,
every glance towards your supposed predictability,
guilt would take hold, like an unspoken apology.
so i redact vision as avoidance,
and your voice would carry clairvoyance,
describing zero resistance,
instructing towards your existence.
are you promising?
many gave up trying.
they said you're too far flying.
the price is too high, and the cost discouraging.
can you imagine this?
so expensive like the abyss,
i wish i owned many more than a chef's kiss,
to at least leap without fear of lawlessness.
your promises of home,
your warnings of a monochrome,
of denying self to reach above ego's dome,
to embrace higher than beauties of Rome.
you knew two things make of light;
the source and the fight.
you exist as is, wide open delight,
with action as your call to a birthright.
there's always a price,
and yours wasn't nice.
you chose self-sacrifice,
will i ever suffice?
does it have to be both?
does it ring like an oath?
but what is "reward" if not growth?
is this what true love is if not to the devoid of self do i betroth?
existential crisis.