When The Flower Inside You Blooms

When The Flower Inside You Blooms

2000s

jp melville

What do I think?

In the end, I think what I think does not matter.

What do I care?

In the end, caring in itself has no value.

Everything comes back to action.

What do I do, this is what matters.

Nothing surprising.

Nothing unique.

Nothing new.

Which leaves me only thinking

That I fail to express

Your value in action.

So what I do is not enough.

So what I do is not right.

So what I do is not selfless.

The three are always true, by some measures anyway:

quantity

morality

ethics.

And I have nothing to defend.

I am guilty.

Because I am conscious that I could always do more – and wish I could.

Because I am conscious that I could always be better – and wish I could.

Because I am conscious that I could always remove judgement – and I wish I could.

This incident, or that.

This moment, or then.

This place, or there.

Whatever the story, whenever the time, wherever the space.

I have nothing to defend.

I am guilty.

Because the measure is never

What I say,

Nor what I think,

Nor what I claim to do…

The measure is you.

Your happiness.

Your peace.

Your energy

Your manifestation.

So you ask…

Why no examples

No description in what I write here

I love the way your breasts move…

Your hands curled in mine…

Your laughter rippling delight in air…

Why not my imagery

The you that is through my eyes

As though my I of you could be enough

What you

Look like

Smell like

Taste like

Feel like…

Because though I treasure these

They are my lust for you

I don’t know these things

I know I know I do not know

Because

Your happiness gone sour

Your peace unbalanced

Your energy short circuited

My I of you rejected.

What I do know is

Just me

And only here, inside this soul

Can I lay fault

Or blame

Or ownership…

But even then this sounds like ego

An “oh woe is me…”

So much this maze of thought get in the way

Of

Trying to find words

To say that I am sorry, which is not enough

To say that I wish you happiness, which is not enough

To say that I walk with you, which is not enough

And even I try silence

Which breeds only fear.

So my heart bleeds and my soul whispers

That maybe, just maybe, one day

I will say

I love you

And the light inside you shines

Just maybe one day…

When the flower inside you blooms.