is there somebody that can

finding oneself

is there somebody that can
tell me what this feeling of
emptyness is that came down in me

 

is there somebody that can
answer me because sadness
doesn’t know my name
but still calls me.

 

and together with the subtile
pleasure to stay alone
there's the uneasiness of
my lonely way of living
like you I'm living
from my thoughts...

 

is there somebody that has
already tried and that maybe
knows what kind of complications
it gives, after so many tumbles
the heart will touch beaches
of tranquillity.

 

but then I'm sure that
this is what I want,
I can still fly up from some
difficulty and afterwards not
to look for you anymore
maybe this is better...

 

I can't understand
certain moments
I would wish you weren't
mine at certain moments.

 

but what is this
light pain - when
it attacks, it hits me
in a sensitive place
and it really stretches me.

 

I have dream't about my freedom
a day in the form of a heron
above the cities, it quickly
reached new summits by throwing
itself, only to subsequently
lose itself in its extensiveness.

 

the existence that
searchs for other loves
inside myself is the essence
of my lonely way of living,
like I'm living
from my thoughts...

 

I have dream't about
my freedom one day
I have dream't about
my freedom someday.......







 

Reviews

[alternative_be]

Love hurts in a very subtle but equally painful way...
This is a very personal, yet minute account of the loss of love with a capital L.
One remark: in one of the first stanzas you write 'subtile'. That is French for 'subtle'
May be a French version of this poem would be more appropiate?
By the way, apart from my criticism, this is a wonderful poem!