Tuesday, 17 February 2015


Mostly I write by night, that's when the world is most quiet,
But tonight, I'll play a little pretend and pretend this is day,
That I'm sitting by a glittering creek by eve',
And that the sun has turned her
golden yellow,

That with each dance she makes, that her ripples
Are streaming down the river,
That I'm feeling the breeze on my face,
That I'm sitting on these greenish grass,

Let me play a little pretend, and pretend the frogs
Are croaking by the stream, a little bit farther down,
That the clouds are dancing in their gowns,
That the rocks are swooshing in the river,

Oh well, I just used three different words,
But that's the thing with pretend games,
You can be on a river, a stream and a creek all at the same time,
You can smile at the sun, and she'd smile right back,

And now I'm in a boat or is it a canoe?,
Strolling down river Nile, for some reason,
I've always imagined that river to be of gold in colour,
Perhaps for the simple reason that I hear Egypt and I think Gold,

Anient Egypt to be exact, I still can't comprehend a modern one,
But then I digress, I'm still on that pretend trip,
And at this point, I seek for answers,
For days now my question has been, the friend I'd like to be,

And then I thought of water, that glorious mirror of transparency,
That let's you see its depths and at the same time yourself,
That smoothens the rough edges of a rock with years of patience,
Water, that changes to accomodate,

By the heat of the sun a rising vapour,
By the sweat of your face a cooling rain,
That cries with you and hides your tears,
That whispers soothingly, as a river in a noisy world,

And then I thought of a needle,
That sews it up good, and makes it all better,
All strong and unbending, with each stitch to pierce and to heal,
Healing from within by turning that clothe inside out,

And then with a thread makes it all pass,
Cold in the heat, cold in the cold,
Blunt and sharp, a bitter metal of a thing,
But for a moment it hit me, a sudden realisation, a little truth,

I don't want to be water, I don't want to accommodate,
I don't want to be a vapour in the heat, and a rain in your tears,
I don't want to cry with you, and hide your tears,
Or be a friend, that whispers soothingly in a noisy world,

I want to be a needle, honest and blunt,
To stitch your tears, by letting you know you're torn,
To acknowledge your fears, and walk them with you,
To be cool when you're freaking out, and mend you up with truth,

I want to be a needle, sturdy and dependable,
To be painfully honest, to show the truth as it is,
To cry with you, and not hide your tears,
To leave you feeling all new and true,

I don't want to be water, changing myself for you,
I want to be a needle, showing you how I am, who I am,
To let you know that no matter how you're torn,
That I am right here to mend you up,

With slow stitches, that might be painful,
I won't just tell you all will be fine, I'll let you see too, how it really is,
But in the end I'll be both;understanding and honest,
Soflty blunt, bluntly blunt and bluntly soft,

To let you see yourself through my eyes,
To let you see who you are by my words,
I would be the water and the needle,
Open and dependable, to smoothen your edges with patience,

And to mend your tears with an honesty that knows no pleasing,
I would be the water and the needle,
I won't change to make you feel better, and won't say things
To please you, but I'll be patient and true,

To be your water when you're strong,
And your needle when you're weak,
To soothe you when you thirst,
And awaken you when you slumber.

I smiled about it too; a needle and a little of water,
But let me be more of a needle and a little of water, I'd rather be that,
And who knows, tomorrow you might miss my harsh honesty,
And appreciate the bitter sweetness of a friend, who'd rather
Make you cry with the truth, than let you smile with a lie.


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