I wish that I had clearer words and remedy for you right now…
I wish that I had a better situation or circumstance to accommodate for the events that are before you. I wish things were different.

I myself, lie here, in this moment, at the mercy of my own ideas. Ideas that have shaped me odd. Perceptions that have molded me uneven. Thoughts that have created me outcast. I am but an attitude from going too far. I am resting upon the edge of anger. Teetering towards the brink of a disaster. I have no answer for myself. Only questions. Only one question, why?

There are no sentiments for the sick of somewhat. There is only sympathy for the assured. But I’ve too many inquiries for those who carry my burdens light. I’m too free. I am too open. I am not of any programming sufficient to limit my release. So I am sufficient to suffer whatever my course. They say I deserve it. They say it serves me right.

Yet I am in no way lost in my finding cause to believe best for them. I have every hope and expectations toward their benefit. I pray and petition for them. I fight for their dreams and I occupy myself bystander to their path. No obstruction or objection. I agree. I comply. I concede.

And yet, here lies a man sordid by the controversy of self. Torn. A loosened page from the book of tradition. I assert that I have no feeling for the reflex of remembered pain. I have forgotten it all. I am a wanting pup towards an evil master. I’ve no other place to turn. Until I’ve turned. Before that time I am still bound to forgive and forget. I resolve myself to ignore the torture of memories that have haunted me helpless…

As I begin to imagine your struggle, I am slow to conjure a perfect solution. I want better for you. I thought that I’d seen better for you. I now understand that even that imagination was my selfish interpretation of perception. I loathe that I may have ignored an outcry.

What can I do? In what capacity can your space allow me? What abundance do I have that can provide for you at this moment? Can I be useful?

I ponder the resilience of distance as I formulate the plan that terrorizes the demons of mediocrity from my own door. As I contemplate the desire of my enemy toward my pain, I find solace in a peace of knowing that there is still breath on me. There is wind of me to move. There is energy here, I can muster the courage to flee from such a way.

As I delve about this abyss of tantrum and tale, I slight towards the wake of general appraise. What ado shall be afforded my consideration? What applause shall anoint me profound? Will I ever be restored?

I think, pray, dream, and wish, all well, to you, for you, and on your behalf.
I await your victory.

-see

©2015 Cornelious “See” Flowers
@seethepoet