skimming the surface of the ocean of me.
by Ayah

Ayah.
The dark, frowning moon has left as you in search of what no one will ever know or truly understand. You are here trying to understand the very contradiction you are, both hoping you will and thinking you will never be. With the sun, with the moon, with magic, with mystery.

Empathy.
You used to hate it a lot, even remember the day a tinier self looked up tear duct removal surgery. Always hearing not to, feeling weak trying to find a place to hide with all the pride of a fifty year old man, feeling a great deal of feelings with quite a sensitive heart.

Creativity.
Your hands have made and created and drawn, a golden touch for all those books, papers and shoes. Your mind is as much of an organized overflow of homemade chaos as your room, whether you write of adventures or act out a scene of gloom.

Funny.
Quite often unintentionally. At first, it was just to cope, but you smile seeing others too. It’s a relief knowing what the other side of life brings with whatever your mouth decides to make comedy, and most likely it's your witty commentary.

Ambition.
A better term for a workaholic craving perfection, that’s certainly true. Your eyes will never leave alone anything you want for you. Whether it’s big or small, you want to do it with excellence better than a schemer befitting you, an ambitious dreamer.

Learning.
One of the many things you love and things you wouldn’t want to stop. Out of curiosity, you want to do more. To learn all things, not confined to graded papers, and to read every book, to taste all the flavors, to teach in a garden for plenty more chasers.