Strange (Day 22 of 100 -- poetry challenge)
Who are You?
When I think of You, the way in which Your energy fills a room, I am overcome by a consuming heat from within. A cosmic wave changing my core —
You transmute me.
I quiver in your vibration as You push away. I am trying to hold onto You. Like sourceless smoke. A formless form. Something I know and yet do not know. You of You.
What a mess.
Somewhere I took a wrong turn and now everything seems askew. My words are twisting and turning, churning and burning before pushing my lips apart in vocalizations — a foreign tone and cadence. A strangeness.
When did I go astray?
This forgetting is wicked. Is this a protection? A projection? A projectile acid erasing everything I love — my dream of You, of things just out of mind’s reach, silhouettes of fading moments, the light from Your eyes.
Why must these tatters waft about?
Circling dust brought up by the gust of thought, something I want to recall, You. Wherever You are. You are a soft undertow that I feel just underneath. Silk that disintegrates upon touch. Something important I forgot to remember.
Where is this?
I thought there was a shared glen, or a bench; a house somewhere with things I love, a garden, and You. In all this I know I dreamt of us in love but You are not here and I cannot feel Your presence. So strange.
Where are You…
All pieces are newly crafted and posted shortly after in adherence to the rules of the challenge. All the photos are mine unless otherwise stated.
Entry for Day 22 of 100 Days of Poetry Challenge by @d-pend.
Join the Steemit School here: https://discord.gg/yZvYjfM organized by @dobartim on Discord.
Memories are such a significant part of who we are. We look to them, we rely on them, to tell us what sort of person we are. Which is also why they star so heavily in our conception, our construction of the stories of our lives. And yet, our memories are malleable, beyond even the mere fact of forgetfulness.
So are we only our memories? No. We are also the ingrained behaviour that we keep even when memory of the events they originated from fade. And well, memories are formed from behaviour, after all.
So forgetting does not change who we are directly, though it can lead to us telling ourselves different stories of who we are, and thus perceive ourselves as different people.
And yet, we treat forgetfulness as terrible, because we identify ourselves with our memories.
But as terrible as that is, the true agitation is the knowledge we forgot something. Because it is like a tooth out of place, or a thorn we cannot ignore. Which is why when people have a word at the edge of their tongue, they can't just move on, because it is a void that keeps arresting their attention.
And that too is the difference between "alone" and "lonely." It is the difference between not having, and feeling a lack, that keeps pulling at you, keep tugging at you.
And this is what moves us to seek. When we can feel that there is something, sometimes even someone, out there, that we know, that we've always known. But they are not here. When their energy is here, or used to be, but is no longer.
Or is it? This void's pull is very powerful indeed, it is pure energy. It is what sends us seeking into the world. It is the cosmic wave you speak of. It is energy, and we go searching for its origin, to let it wash over us, to let it change us, to let it form new memories, to let it make us into new people.
People who won't even remember the memories they've left behind.
I quite like the second stanza on how our words can cheat and lie to us, how we can feel as if they are someone else's. Just as memories can feel as if they do not belong to the person we perceive ourselves to be now.
I also like how this is structured as poetic prose, rather than as short lines. Because the questions are short, but the wonderment and wandering are not.
Just one wrong word that time won't let you erase. Wonderful wonderful expression filled write, Mamadini:)
Thank you. :)
good poetry i like
Thank you.
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