with an essential sense of purpose --
that I have to say something to someone.
I dont know what it is,
I dont know how it is,
but I desperately need to say it.
Things kept locked away in the corners,
weep alone and reach out helplessly.
One word or two, one smile, one gesture ...
and nothing ... to weave stories by.
So John Denver sings to me
Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy
Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry ...
Golden droplets throw their embrace on me
through the windows and kiss my wet cheeks.
No hands reach out through finicky distances.
Maybe you will walk by one day
and not know me from discarded memories.
And still I wait, for who knows what?
Life threatens and promises unforgiving wounds,
and yet I hope, I wish, I dream, I empty out my hours,
for you, who perhaps would not even think that a
young, raw, unkempt elf like me would ever dare
to smile at your heights and be so proud of you
and protective, unnecessarily ...
And others keep on telling me that I should just forget
and move on, and leave you because you belong
to someone else in silent hours and starlit evenings ...
I turn on them and walk away, as if I matter, to them or you ....
I turn pages after pages, to read and wonder
what face am I looking into? Whose?
Do they know something that I dont?
I was always a bit stupid, I know.
But your eyes tell me a different story every moment ....
Blues. And songs. And images we share. And words scattered ....
It was so essential to know, to let know. I'm scared.
Of what? I dont know. I really dont ....
Maybe I dont deserve to know. Its you after all.
Someone I have known only through my gut feelings.
I hope ....
Before I get old and die ....
If I could give you the best gift, what would it be?
If I had a tale that I could tell you
I'd tell a tale sure to make you smile
If I had a wish that I could wish for you
I'd make a wish for sunshine all the while.
Sunshine ....
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