Personal Myth

Dancing around the issue is one of the things I am good at.
Confronted with explaining my actions and accused of confusion,
I freeze. "I don't know!" was my response.
To know is not enough I thought, and what do we do with it anyway?
I began searching for anything to say,
"I don't know, except......" I struggled, "...to know the words is not enough."

As I come down from this ugly place I prepare for a rough landing.
Confronted again by my bailiff to justify my confusion I stutter the
following, "If I knew what it was I, I, I, wouldn't be confused.
I'm, ahh, I'm not confused, I ammm... searching."

Now I have to contend with you the reader /listener of this confession.
"For what you ask? Okay, here goes. Love!"

"Now!, I have to ask you, Is the search for love socially / culturally
inspired? Is the pursuit for love a quest for an urban myth?"

As a institutional disciple in training from grade one I had no voice.
Choosing words more than meaning I spoke through images
when the words didn't come.

In my defense I admit that, "I've had my share of the full spectrum
of emotions with at least three women and two men. "Woven with
romantic images and physical / spiritual connections these 5
relationships are the foundation of my personal myth. Is that love?"

In the after math of social conditioning it seems the adolescence of
adulthood was a blur for me.
This I professed, "I learned much, lived
full, loved deeply, pained wetly."

Now that I think of it, I have to ask, "Was it your blood or mine, your
sweat or mine, your tears mine, your love juices or mine, your spit in
my eye or mine in yours?"

It doesn't matter anyway because I'd go searching for it again. Searching
for the images, not the words used to describe it. Even when I find it I
abandoned it in the hopes of finding something more sur-real than real.
I had it but I let it go, again.

"I'm going now. Where? Searching!"

©WRM