Day 2: The Unrequited Love Poem
How do you feel when you love someone who does not love you back?
I really don’t mind it. Because I love myself, when I know that I deeply love myself, there isn’t anyone in the world that I know that can make me feel bad.
Because I am the universe, I am the ocean. Perhaps not as vast or expansive as the actual thing. But I hold the vastness of the universe and the depths of the ocean inside me.
In the dark silence, I can hear the fishes fly out to me, within me. The richness of all that is natural, nature itself, the woods, the trees, the pines. The secret of the world I hold within me.
I am awake. For those awake, a deep responsibility is needed, because there is risk involved.
With deeper awareness, there is a deeper responsibility, with deep responsibility is required a deep trust. With this deep trust, there is even a bigger risk.
That is why whatsoever you do, go and see it through. Only then are you able to collect the benefits of what you sow.
May the ones that have the ears to listen & may all the ones that have the heart, understand.
As I shine the light within me, other flames do I touch and light theirs as well.
If I’m going to write anything about love, let it be this. That the ultimate love is the love of non-attachment to others. That you have only yourself. Only need yourself.
I think of a large oak tree as a symbol of the enlightened. Others are birds & animals alongside you that enjoy your shade & resources.
This wanting to become the oak tree, comes down to understanding that this whole thing was first just a small seed. Many people understand the oak tree. Many people reap the benefits of the oak tree, but few are the ones that help the seed to grow.
That are nurtured that way.
I had a realization of my dad. I want to thank him from the bottom of my heart for the hard work he’s put in to allow me to be here writing right now.
I can feel his love & compassion through my blood & veins. It is ingrained within me. It has mixed with the mysteries of the universe. The love of one’s parents. How beautiful.
I’m a poet. I don’t write based off of logic. I write based out of my heart, my own voice. The voices in my head are still there. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shut them up. Writing does help centralize them down to one voice, but they still won’t shut up.
My time for today is over. I will continue this practice to love, the inner, the immortal. Ever expanding & ever dying. It’s the introduction of the paradox that fights a heavy war within me.
As I extend my writing to a new page, it awes me that this level of pressure can be relieved so easily by the pinpointing of the pen.
It feels like I’m murdering my own inner self & tattooing each corpse onto the paper.
Death itself keeps you close to reality. There’s a bit of satisfaction I get from it. The silent violence is full in my pen.