you asked out loud what would it be like if you had what you wished for...
you asked... i listened. i asked myself, what if...
then, just a few days ago it was my own ego that lay shattered on the floor and i was much too busy consoling its disgrace to notice that i had been acknowledged. i am who i am and that that is just grand. it is ecstasy, and somehow it met me unprepared, somehow like the rest of my life.
damn you! how did you know?
i know that i was not the inspiration
she left, she parted
you remained, you love
you will always love, you do.
i read your words and look for solace in their very existence
trouble me, do!
your words, my words
words. trust.
yes, solace...
i needed that today when i caught my mind racing so fast and totally loosing the plot because i realize that there are so very few hours to do all that i want to do. just yesterday, all turned so differently. i was immersed, i was searching, i was creating. was i thinking?
then i saw something or other, a trace of your existence, and i went through all the colours of the alphabet, and all the motions of existence. could you possibly be telling me something that i am not able to understand?
then i felt the anxiety. it is my anxiety. it is my fear. i have been fighting this fear. i am tired of this fear and this fear is tired of me, it is time that this fear and i embrace each other, and trust. trust life, trust us, trust you, trust me.
it is the morning hours and i wake up before my alarm. on good days this is how it starts. i have this deep love and affection for the tender morning hours regardless from which side of sleep i do approach them.
last night i finished writing and mailed a long long love letter. writing love letters is nothing new to me, all that i write are love letters. i have fallen in love with life, and that is all that i ever write about. i write about life and sharing life. even my most complex stories are about life, life and death, and that illusory four letter word that we call love, and that has us spellbound and helpless, for all it ever wanted to represent is life itself.
i love you. i am cairo. i am life.
who am i? who sits here?
i am nobody. no-body.
freedom.
life, what is it really?
i thought that my life was borrowed. it is not, it is mine.