How long it took to make him
My secret self and I
To stabilise and raise him
That he might touch his sky
Then watching as he made the world
In image of his days gone by
➰
The jewelled world was wonderful
For secret self and me
So far removed from vulnerable
Was where we went to be
But jewel is as dual does
And splits the him from truly free
➰
This freedom loathes the static
In secret self and me
It’s life is found erratic
Where beating heart learns just to be
Among the streams, beneath the boughs
Of life’s eternal tree
➰
No longer is there room
For secret self – the we
The summer sun is bright
And overhead we see
Its song is keyed to one alone
And so my secret self has flown
Urging not-so-secret I to seek and find the key
➰
©Stephen Tanham
Reblogged this on Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie.
how many of us are brave enough to admit to having a secret self?
And yet it is a gate through which we must all pass on our journey to the truly real… thank you x
I have never thought of it that way… my secret self must remain a secret, even from me, it seems…
It is a construct of the personality, and ultimately false.
My secret self is the real me, I’m afraid. The one the world should see, but never has.
The poem is meant to accommodate many perspectives about our interior lives, Jaye x
Reblogged this on Stuart France.