when i appear to you <br />one of these days <br /> <br />what is it that you want to see? <br /> <br />my hands are hard <br />my ears covered <br />my eyes in haze <br />my body in trembling <br /> <br />this is not what you want to see i guess <br /> <br />you want greek pillars as my feet <br />my eyes as gentle as a roman saint <br />my ears attentive as a echoing mountain <br />my body strong like an old castle <br /> <br />but let me tell you how is it to grieve <br />for someone that i have loved and lost <br /> <br />how is it to cry and yet not wanting to have tears <br />how is it to be lost and pretend that he has the mastery of the ways <br />that he has the manners of a man mastering the art of cultured restraint <br /> <br />tell me if you all know these <br />if you can relate to these miseries <br /> <br />perhaps one day when the world is ready for me <br /> <br />then i will show myself filled to the brim of reality <br />like a glass emptied of its contents glistening to the rays of light not filtered by the mist<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unfiltered-by-mist/
