True Me

The journey is yet to begin and there is more to love

about the uncertainty of knowledge. The interest of the 

mind lies within the certainty of uncertainty and this questions 

the courage to voice the mind. The mind dwells upon the skepticism

that lies in wait, yearning for an escape that deems worthy of

the victim...me. My hesitation to claim the throne of assurance

does not abide by the laws of the society. The monster that

creeps into my heart and bounds my will in chains of despair.

It seems that the reserved are latent in the resonant civilization

that produces a deafening compulsion to always and 

forever voice the wisdom. I am a silent whisper hidden in

the crowds of people who do not know that I exist.

I am a small gust of the wind that blows softly into one's ears.

But people don't know the true me... I am a ringing bell that

crescendos to a forte, once swaying side by side with other bells.

Those bells are the movement within the rhythm that harmonizes

with the music, ringing inside my head. The charming bell that 

no one knew plays a latent tune to those who hear pleasing

sounds to one's own ears. The fixed gaze of enlightenment kisses 

those who are willing to enjoy the ringing of the bell, my bell.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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