On Silent Love

June 2003.

Flight of a seagull
If my love was the deep blue sea,
You would be a seagull,
Entrancing, graceful.
So close yet so far.
Enticing, seductive.
Yet I could never go nearer.
And you never did come nearer.

I was afraid.
Any nearer I got, I might drown you.
Losing you eternally.
I was scared.
Any closer I drew, I might scare you.
To some land far away.
To far inland for me ever to reach.

Still, I have to face inner turbulences within me,
The waves and tides.
A mere show of my endless frustration.
Externally, nor am I spared.
The cold winds and drying sun.
O! What pain!
But none more than the thought that you may never come closer,
And only drift further,
Into my sunset.

My immobility, unchanging state.
I am stuck.
Therein, my greatest tragedy.
I cannot force myself any further from you.
But you can.
Even if you ever do come close,
You might still go.
You do have wings.
I know.