If you knew.
Maybe you do.
If so, you should know.
Like I know it.
I sleep and wake up with it, churning in my gut and setting the course for my day
I am so afraid to speak it. I like it, and I hate it.
And it hurts; in so many ways, it hurts.
But it doesn't go away.
I sleep on it. I wake up and think on it. Consider it. Fodder it. Entertain it. Sustain it. Dismiss it. Then I sleep on it. Dream on it. Inspired by it, I wake up. And I linger on it, tinker it, cuddle it, and nurture it ... my heart's full of it.
And the days drift, and I lose it. Then I regain it, pulled from a coil of a dream of it. Then I desire it. I repeat it. And I recycle it. and praise it. And I go on to shape it, imagine it, but never fully grasping it.
I owe it, a birth into existence; hence the persistence. I'll never grow it, and I know it, but I put all my hopes on it ... until the day I die.
"When she was just a girl, she expected the world. But it flew away from her reach, so she ran away in her sleep." -ColdPlay.