Remarkable
These pronounced emotions that so many can feel, as I do just the hope of concealing enough to hold my head up. Tiny measures of time just gives way to my surroundings. The allowances of just forgoing some sort of passion.
Yet I hold much passion. Though it is not for what people understand as such. I grasp at the beauty of knowledge. That is such a stunning attribute in people. Yet it is not that of book teachings but of life.
Experiences.
And to much of my dismay I find myself craving to deepen myself with some old fulfillment. Sounds of a foolish story. Yet the interesting bits is truth outweighs that of false.
Within me are multitudes of information but much is hidden. I cannot begin to relay how much is under covers.
By all means no weight is heavy when I search. The beginning of every love story is that understood phrase.
And though my mind seeks love, it imparts with ringing definition of what other pieces of passion bring. The impact of where I hope to pursue life and regain that measure of creativity.
With the knowledge and wisdom to separate what everyone believes is "love" and "passion". By far mine is nothing of what those waiting expect. They are different.
To explain the abyss of me would be a series of novels. Much to which every chosen way is fumbling upon the next. And as much as it seems the ending is clear and relatively close, I surpass it all.
To be misunderstood, I truly grasp. To not really have any one person brave enough to dig inside of me, I accept. And though the majority of me wants differently, the sheer idea that someone is willing to learn is astronomical.
Of course I am not shy in the aspect of people but I am reserved for a small collection of beings. And to say I need to branch out, you must be a joker unfortunate in your words.
Though I scream this in the writings I will not say aloud. Oh by far I speak volumes of myself here. Though few listen I am grateful.
As much as I don't mind sitting through chit chat a mere hug would suffice over a hello. Even in those times of even now I am still a contradictory result of sighs.
The adrenaline within me is good. The fire that buries me is warm and defining. I raise myself from within but not on my power. I am only partial to what I have. Small fractions of what is me, really is mine. Most of which belongs to Jehovah.
So many times I have wondered why I am such a mystery. What of those peeled layers really hold the most information? Ah and how to ask the right question that explodes the memories of time. How can I just let one or three inside, to finally grasp the pure part of my love?
Alas I cannot begin to ask that question. It is not the way to seek truth. In cases such as I, people either must be severely interested, willing to have remote frustrations and want to walk away. Yet instead they hope to hold on tight. At least of all they want to stand beside me.
Now that is something to seek. The friendships.
If I have confused you or even intrigued you I am amazed. Yet not surprised.
In which I have done what I am passionate about. Remarkable.
Yet I hold much passion. Though it is not for what people understand as such. I grasp at the beauty of knowledge. That is such a stunning attribute in people. Yet it is not that of book teachings but of life.
Experiences.
And to much of my dismay I find myself craving to deepen myself with some old fulfillment. Sounds of a foolish story. Yet the interesting bits is truth outweighs that of false.
Within me are multitudes of information but much is hidden. I cannot begin to relay how much is under covers.
By all means no weight is heavy when I search. The beginning of every love story is that understood phrase.
And though my mind seeks love, it imparts with ringing definition of what other pieces of passion bring. The impact of where I hope to pursue life and regain that measure of creativity.
With the knowledge and wisdom to separate what everyone believes is "love" and "passion". By far mine is nothing of what those waiting expect. They are different.
To explain the abyss of me would be a series of novels. Much to which every chosen way is fumbling upon the next. And as much as it seems the ending is clear and relatively close, I surpass it all.
To be misunderstood, I truly grasp. To not really have any one person brave enough to dig inside of me, I accept. And though the majority of me wants differently, the sheer idea that someone is willing to learn is astronomical.
Of course I am not shy in the aspect of people but I am reserved for a small collection of beings. And to say I need to branch out, you must be a joker unfortunate in your words.
Though I scream this in the writings I will not say aloud. Oh by far I speak volumes of myself here. Though few listen I am grateful.
As much as I don't mind sitting through chit chat a mere hug would suffice over a hello. Even in those times of even now I am still a contradictory result of sighs.
The adrenaline within me is good. The fire that buries me is warm and defining. I raise myself from within but not on my power. I am only partial to what I have. Small fractions of what is me, really is mine. Most of which belongs to Jehovah.
So many times I have wondered why I am such a mystery. What of those peeled layers really hold the most information? Ah and how to ask the right question that explodes the memories of time. How can I just let one or three inside, to finally grasp the pure part of my love?
Alas I cannot begin to ask that question. It is not the way to seek truth. In cases such as I, people either must be severely interested, willing to have remote frustrations and want to walk away. Yet instead they hope to hold on tight. At least of all they want to stand beside me.
Now that is something to seek. The friendships.
If I have confused you or even intrigued you I am amazed. Yet not surprised.
In which I have done what I am passionate about. Remarkable.
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