She lays there
her lids shut.
A pink tinge
on her cheeks.
A mystic smile
playing her lips.
I look at her long
and wonder long
Is this what contentment is?
What does it feel like?
I know not what
she hides.
What dream goes on
behind her eyes?
I have been running,
searching, digging,
delving
trying to find this peace
that she wraps around her
and sleeps.
She walked miles,
crossed oceans,
climbed mountains,
and came back empty.
Her hands empty,
she gave it all.
Her heart empty,
she poured it all.
Her eyes empty,
all tears gone.
And yet she seems
filled.
Brimming, not overflowing
with peace, she claims,
shall remain unruffled.
Its her gift, she says,
for giving it all.
Her peace, her soothe.
I look at her
while she talks
I see her words
I hear them not
I drown in her eyes
in search of her soul
only to realise
she is no more a body
she is now wholly
her soul.
I have lost mine
I need to find.
I look at her long
and wonder long
she is lost
unable to be found
is this what contentment is?

One thought on “Eccentricity

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