small, yet magnified.

Is there a moment that I do not know myself?

Yet, I find you, my soul, there, in silent footsteps

On the outreaches of the dimming twilight;

Her tiny hands, palms out, open, holding the

World, telling me: now, do you know?

The world is smaller than it appears, and

Your spirit is not so big that you cannot see it:

Pressed against the glass window, small yet magnified,

Your soul is encased in this animal body,

And you know it, like you know your own mind.

Do not be afraid now. 

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Well, I'm basically unsatisfied with how I've been writing lately. I like what I wrote above, but it just doesn't say how I feel sometimes. Like I've changed and I don't know what or who or how I am anymore. It's a scary feeling, to feel at a loss. I'd also like to note that I now understand how people write so many things about love/heartbreak because I feel as though when I've gone through that this past year, I wrote like crazy. And some of the poems were ones that I'm most proud of. 

On another thought, I reread Plato's allegory of the cave (or skimmed it at least) and I remember how much of full and wonderful thing it is. I want to write something so eloquently elegant and original that it has staying power. Maybe someday. 

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