You strike me as irreverent,
adhered to your principals,
behaving as they
have told you to behave,
out of fear, out of sorrow,
but do you actually
question your words?

You strike me as incomplete,
striving for completeness,
when there is nothing to be found,
but a passion to be bound
from the freedom you can’t find,
do you distinguish fear from love?

Stop your comparison,
take a step back,
make your vision blurry,
what is reality?

Is it your blindness
that hurts
or my blurred
insight translated
into happiness?

You strike me as empty,
trying to fill your world with words
that adhere to the principle
that rejects my passionate
ways of not giving answers,
but striving to provide
examples made out of dust.

Perhaps, my dusty ways
will infuse your eyes
with clarity,
and you will stop that chase
that takes you nowhere,
but gives those
who are as blind
as you are
the right state of mind
that empties their words
until they see the world
as it really is,
and not how
they think it is.

Setting the world in fire,
a wrath of words,
that sets them free as I am,
and you wish you were
by being who you think I am,
but not who I really am
unless you burn with them,
killing me in the process,
but not killing my essence
because I don’t depend
on words to exist.

Although,
you might be afraid
you will die with me…

I need not to know,
as you do,
I need not to think,
as you do,
I need not to possess,
as you do,
so once and for all,
let me go,
love me so,
let me go.