endeavor to remove

dear life
i've tried. i've endeavored in comprehending.
i've put, time and again, all my efforts into understanding
and when the picture's finally clear,
when out of the haze at last a tangible image appears
my etch-a-sketch is shaken
a stone you drop into the pond of my vision
and once more you, dear life, get thrown into chaos
and me, unhinged, off-course, into despair

however, feelings are indeed a badge of honor
they are what certifies:
'this one's alive,
one of the chosen few who has chosen
to refuse to dissolve in the unfortunate ocean:
gray waters engulfing
the tumultuous multitude of human drops,
all the same, all in their drab little uniforms...'

so, yes, i'd rather freeze, a unique icicle
to be blown away in the gale,
or burnt away in an untamable flame of emotion,
only to retain what's essential, if but for a fleeting, doomed moment

but yours is the choice now...
time and again i've played my cards,
and maybe as i've been trying to understand you,
so have you tried to put your finger on me.
maybe it is i who gives in to my slippery nature
and swim away from your grasp.
but your lead now's quite clear, methinks,
you've shown how expectations
hopes, wishes and dreams
are naught but heights from where to fall
and, though no vow have i uttered to hold on to letting go,
i release you from my encumbrance,
from me, be free to go

i will remove my hooks
i will sever the ties that i've laced round my fate,
as precious as these to me may seem,
i will maintain radio silence
i will refrain from the thought
nay, the need
to check in on you, to think on your themes
to ponder when will i find my place within you
why do i feel so forsaken by you, by us, by me...

whatever you thought, though, know there is no game here.
artistry, pleasure, yes, need and desire,
but no more a game than a seance in trance, than the seer,
withdrawing from fated deck to reveal what's beneath,
what the undertow brings:
anxiety, craving, longing, maybe;
perchance the odd chance that you'd come around,
but not, no, no game here, my dear

i will only reserve the right to this heart on my sleeve
to dwell in the house of confusion, under the blade, still on the brink
many a parable's been written 'bout he who dove in too late
and if that'd be my fate,
i will take it in stride
i will relish the fact that at least i was alive
and i tried.
many a tale has been spun 'bout he who wasted away,
but in the depths of my heart, my gifts have been real,
even if not for the whole world to feel,
i've basked in the knowledge
of who i am, what i've done, what has moved me
how i love thee
and how, in your way, you've bestowed your love upon me

dear life
if it be your will
from my burden relieve yourself
as from hopes so will i
maybe in time, i'll wake up to realize,
from what happens to what is,
that the key to the prize was always inside,
and that in trying to see i've been blind,
that the mistakes have been mine.