Posted on Monday, November 24, 2008
in Poems and things
I see you. I know your deepest secrets, every mole on your body. I watch you while you sleep, but you don’t know it.
That’s not to say you don’t know I’m here… don’t get me wrong; don’t think I don’t feel your love for me, your admiration, your appreciation. Sometimes you sit for an age, just staring at me as though you were in my world, contemplating the solutions to your everyday irks in my presence, extending a solitary finger every now and then to ascertain that I’m not really there. I feel that touch and I feel blessed, but you don’t know it. I’m there.
I live. You might think that I’m alive in a different sense (I know you’ve contemplated it), but that doesn’t mean I don’t live. I live doomed to forever enjoy my favourite past-time while you exist so freely, troubled by the things that aren’t your idea of an hour well spent. I do so wish you could live like me for a day, just as much as I wish the reverse. If we could trade places, I would show you the true meaning of life… the fact that no matter what you do or say, no matter what erronious impulse you act upon and regret thinking it a lifelong mistake, you always come back. You come back to me with the regularity of my own apperance, and nothing changes. None of it matters in the end.
I am the one in the picture… the picture in your room that inspires you and earths you in a moment of need.
I know you well. If you are lucky, some day you’ll end up like me… the person in the picture with the steadfast face, forever gazing longingly, belying the truth. Maybe one day children will dash madly around the room you inhabit, shouting ‘Make it stop watching me!’ and they’ll be looking at you, trying desperately to avert your gaze… a gaze that you so preciously coveted in your mortal life. A gaze is a wonderful thing, be sure when all’s said and done that your gaze remains true, a source of inspiration for those that follow, because that is all we have left.