And now the secret-mon secret- le secret-il segreto- das Geheimnis- your name - is too known to me. Now it will burn in me and press against the walls of my life to be shouted. shown. not itself. If all of life is tension and release this will be my precipice- for whose eyes actually sparkle like that?
And what did I just do? Say? Forget? It was wrong, must have been, because there you go, and there it is- you know I know. You need not hold any secret. You see it behind my eyes and reject it- that sparkle is now disappointment.
Shamed. I have profaned the secret by its very existence. Its vapours made my own eyes sparkle. Bits of it came as fairy dust through my mouth. Its light shown from my fingers. It's thick golden ore pushed and poured forth and stretched me, filled me, found fractures in my very skull and mind to overflow me.
How embarrassing its suppression simply made its golden glow brighter.
My hope now- deh, per pieta- my secret longing- is that I did not frighten you too truly for everyone. That you will not fear, hate them. That you will not not shine.
And my secret fear of all- terror at that hand- is that I actually took something you valued, in taking myself away as something you could respect. Please tell me you did not care for me at all. Please tell me you could not have loved me eventually - had I not lived the secret of your beloved name.
Created: Jul 21, 2012LaBramo Document Media