It is a dream. It’s always been a dream.
It’s a secret my heart tells me when I am asleep. He is a little kid, my heart. He behaves like a child and is very shy. My heart stays away from my body with someone beyond my reach. Just, so, close! I can reach up to it and scrape my fingers at it but I cannot get the grip as of now. Tired, grasping and out of breath when I lay on the stone just below my stone, me heart crawls up to me and whispers in my ear a secret.
He is a little shy, my heart. Afraid to voice out his words. Scared that someone may overhear and laugh.Scared that someone will overhear. Scared. He is a lot scared, my heart. Afraid to voice himself out. Afraid for me. Afraid for my rock.
He creeps down the rock and scuttles towards me in his tiny feet and whispers in my ear and runs back. He doesn’t like to leave my rock alone, my heart. Desires unspoken in the public, he gives them a form. Fears unheard of he says with a shivering voice, only when I am asleep.
He did a prophecy, my heart. His whispers are words which come to life. To create is to animate. Give birth to a thought. His thoughts are so cute and so macabre, it’s ridiculous they exist. He’s a bit foolish, my heart. Speaks in a language none understand and is still afraid to speak out loud.
He whispers so little, it’s hardly a sentence. Two syllable. Two sentences.
He whispered your name. My rock. My rock on whom I will build my church. A dream I have with my. On whom my fingers scrape but I cannot get a grip as of yet. He whispers “Sorrow” and indeed the worst of this breed comes to greet me.
I am an honest and sincere host though. I welcome them both. My rock and sorrow. Embrace them both. My rock and sorrow. I do all the preparations for both my rock and sorrow. I come, and make my move. Between the two I sit and groove. I don’t want them to meet and greet. They’re not a team, I’d like to see.
My rocks weeps. Asks for me to grip and I will. It seems too sorrowful and disheartening.
But he doesn’t know me my heart. He is afraid I will collapse apart. Give up and let go and depart.
He’s naive my heart.
One day I will indeed get a grip on my rock. And then I will build my church. The deity: my rock.