The Only Thing I Know...

The only thing I know about anger, is that one instant of patience with it, will save me from a hundred nights of anguish.  The only thing I know about sorrow is that it is a keeper of some sort of secret.  And that it should never be called into life intentionally.   It is a cold tow inward.  And to parade it around will not save anyone from it.  It will only twist and distort their purity into something hungrier than fire and insatiable.  The only thing I know about age is that it is never too late for age to mean nothing.  For all that you have done and seen to mean nothing, for you to be nothing.  And how sweet it would be to be nothing.  The only thing I know about fear is that its eyes are full of error and that there is no force that could pull me farther from you.   The only thing I know about words is that they are but a veil over substance and that their critical dissection leads to misinterpretation.  All that has been said through you, has been made dirty by those who cannot understand you.  And they do not know what they do.  The only thing I know about love is that two are not meant to fade into one.  But in what state can I rise above love’s grasp?  Must I be alone for no one’s soul to touch my own?  I have always been confused by those who are so sure of their place.  And those who so easily submit to what they think they are.   If I am not my own home, I do not know how to find you.  Am I made to sing?  Or to fade into the salty earth?  Do I wander?  Or stand with those I love?  God, I have seen you from so many angles.  And you will not tell me where to stand; only, whether or not I am standing with you.