after the smoking is done
hands wrapt around it in the whoorring winds of this hill top
reminds me of a warmth somewhere
i don't like feeling that i'm giving up on loving
can't love everything
can't hate everything
the art of loving
the deliberation of what is worth keeping
and that which should be thrown away
waste is just a long-long compost
it'll all come back again
shouldn't mourn it too much.
i have to examine different ways of loving:
if my lover isn't going to be my saviour
isn't going to be the person i want to be come
isn't going to be my enemy
what is my lover?
is he my friend?
is he the one i share my life with?
my living experience?
is he one of the many?
one of the cast? one of the audiance?
one of the family?
who are you, lover?
can i trust you?
only as much as i trust my self
and i have admitted to being a trust-fund-kidd
in that i only survive if i trust
trust in god
trust in humanity
trust in my self
my soul, my ego
i only know that survival is based on love
survival isn't enough:
love is creative
in the act of loving
a child is born
and that child is art
that child is compassion
and that makes the world a better place
even if our love is rooted in fear and shame
that love should create a hope
a light out of that confusion and darkness
if i am to be my own loving daddy
fostering my children
raising them to know that
in the end
they will be safe and warm
amongst other things, yes
but i should be able to promise them at least that.
you: what do you want from me?
i hope that you can ask me for something like that
and i hope that i can give it to you
and i hope that you love me enough to stick to your desires
coz we create this together
and just as i'm counting on myself
i'm counting on you
we owe eachother that
after such a long relationship...