It's difficult when words that escape my lips are language of art. Not many speak or even understand my melody of voice. It's hard when the language I speak is of every art you seek.
The art of understand my mere basic language is that of royalty of trust and dignity. When I speak, my mind engaged into my emotions, seeking the truth from every word I register, scanned and delivered.
I lost track of the truth I speak. I couldnt act up my secret engagement with this world of art. I can't explain this mystery within my soul. It's a code encoded in another. It's almost like solving why "e=mc^2". The logic behind this can only be explained by the creator, and in most cases, only the creator can understand its logic. The rest just followed unable to register the basic of that equation.
My soul screamed for an answer, and another soul came to calm her down. Mate caressed her and said, "This is our life, filled and sealed with mysteries noone else will ever have"
My mind accepted the words of depth, my body surrendered for its real owner to recharge and come back alive, hyper just like before. Mind is twirled as more mysteries came to merge in its mass reunion.
And I am glad I have the strength, the courage and the will to be different and stay different. Unpredictable and open to new ideas. Toned down, but still bright as the sun would shine Earth, yet maintained its darkness so noone will ever know the real self.
This is me, back again to her world of mysteries that has yet to be solved. And I shall go on and speak this language of art, no one except Mate can understand.
I am here, right here, with lips sealed with my own. I indulge in every breath God gave me for He gave me another reason to run and keep running, this race that will have no end till never.
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