Contradictions
Sometimes I borrow dawn's first light,
Sometimes I dream through broad daylight.
Sometimes I work till the hours all blur,
Then lose three days without a stir.
Sometimes I answer before you blink,
Sometimes I don't reply for weeks.
I love a room that's mine alone,
yet hate the silence when it's grown.
I measure every "what if" twice,
then throw the map like rolling dice.
I hold on hard, I let things go,
both with a grace I'll never know.
I chase the fire, I crave the rain.
I run from joy, I court the pain.
People call it contradiction.
I call it weather.
The sky has never apologized
for changing.
The sea has never explained
why some days
it kisses the shore,
and some days
it keeps its distance.
Why should I?
I am made
of almosts
and always,
of unfinished sentences
and perfect pauses.
If I bloom at dawn,
and disappear by noon—
don't call me inconsistent.
Call me human.
Even the moon
can't decide
whether to stay
or slowly
let itself
go.
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