Being?

( Something I wrote a long time ago, just felt like reproducing it here.)

 

I trust the trust that others trust,

i take a leap of faith.

I think i see what others see,

i take a leap of faith.

I want to feel what others tellme,

but there i miserably fail.

I think i know that i’m falling,

but i know that the hand awaits.

I always tell myself i’m short,

No matter what the choice…

I always stand just shy of the line

that says you’ve made it, rejoice.

Is it the truth that rings through me,

Or is it plain fear of being less?

Am I what i’ve always though I was,

Or am I just a statue of my fears, a mess?

Its a question that may never yeild,

But i think i know what to do.

I place my trust in the hand, the being,

of the one who will never bid adieu.