For Evette:
I want that intangible,
The je ne sais quois,
I want to be free,
Adored from afar –
I realize I find,
A well deep… unfilled,
When I consider the Self,
While in other arms held -
Through mirrors I see,
All that I could lack,
What would and what should,
As jealous lips smack –
And so I must learn,
Accept and confront,
Time brings forth the needs,
Limited not by one’s wants –
Through this the Self’s taught,
By trial – ebb, flow, and misstep,
That fear alone can bring,
Bitterness… cliché regret –
A love based on truth,
Not lustful or petty,
To ask myself , how?
I feel not quite ready –
It seems as though love,
Like books on a shelf,
With ease – wears and tears,
Not so for the Self –
How in, another’s arms,
Can we still evolve?
If the Self’s journey be blinded,
Restricted by love –
Yet if I don’t love,
I think I am cursed,
But I know this so truly:
I must love Self first.
© 2010, Jameson Freeman
