::@:: Reality of Dreams ::@::

Random Creative Moment Alert!

Not entirely sure where the inspiration came from (well I have an idea but that’s private :)) for this poem, anyway I have called it “Touchâ€? as it examine an inidvidual, and humanities, search for that touch from another.

Now, in the past, what I have written has been taken apart and people finding either some Freudian metaphor or some dodgy twist, I can’t even look at one of my poems I wrote years ago now because of what someone did to it, lets just say it was called “Storm Ship” and involved a mast… so I state now, its not THAT kind of touch.

EDIT: Before the poem some link I just found:
- Pay attention Bush and yer cronies - LINK
- Computer Interfaces in Movies - LINK

Touch

Alone in a crowd,
a saying and a truth,
a way to express the state of being we all find ourselves in,
a truth so profound we laugh it off rather than face it,
Afraid of loneliness,
Yet afraid to reach out,
Desperate for contact,
While sitting behind locked doors in the darkness.

Then a touch,
one solitary touch,
a brief moment when we are no longer alone,
a moment too fleeting
a present all too the past
just one touch,
and then we seek it out again and again,
always seeking that one,
that one who when they even just brush against us,
even just breath,
our world becomes bearable,
our existence no longer solitary,
no longer alone,
because of a simple touch,
oh how we long for the touch to become more,
an embrace,
a gesture of love,
a sign that we are not alone,
that the darkness is an illusion,
a touch that by its promise illuminates,
brings hope,
no matter how fleeting.

In the darkness,
always searching,
hoping,
praying,
that one day we will find the touch,
the touch that illuminates our darkness,
that completes us,
yet,
we are alone,
so very alone,
in the darkness,
clambering around,
blind,
afraid,
afraid that the darkness will be all we know,
afraid that when that which is inevitable comes,
that we will never have felt the touch again,
or even once.

So soft,
so tender,
so loving the touch,
I long to hold the hand that touches me,
hold it there against my cold cheek until kingdom come,
it rests so gently,
letting me know I am loved,
and then,
it is gone,
an illusion and nothing more,
or is that what I fear,
that in desiring the touch again I find it in nothingness,
I see it where there is darkness,
just one more time,
one more touch,
let me be alive again,
let me feel complete,
let me feel the touch again,
let me be loved,
even if only for a moment,
even if it fades away,
just so I will have felt the touch once,
just even once,
as I sit,
in the darkness,
alone,
waiting,
for a simple touch.

Individuals,
alone,
singular,
wanting to be more,
wanting to connect,
too afraid,
too alone,
a loneliness that binds,
and covers,
and shields us,
from the touch we so desperatly seek,
the darkness we fear is too dark,
yet the darkness is not dark,
an illusion and nothing more,
we can all feel whole,
we can all be loved,
no matter how dark the darkness may seem,
it is never too dark,
for even the simplest touch can dispel it,
we just need to let ourselves,
be touched.