In This World, Not of It.

Listen, seriously... take your time.
There's no rush for you to come around.
People keep asking me where you are; if you exist.
I tell them I don't know; you don't, I suppose.
It gets to me for a second,
But then I realize that I don't want to end up a tragedy.
I'd rather wait for a while.
Be me.
Be dependent only on my God,
Not you. Not yet.
It's not time.
So, please... just hold off for now.
I want it to be right.
I don't want to be the one singing this song:

I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet,
Lead her up the stairwell.
This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town,
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now it's too late for you
And your white horse, to come around.

...Because I am a princess, and this can be a fairy tale.
There will be one to sweep my off my feet,
And lead me up the stairwell.
I know this isn't Hollywood,
It really is a small town.
And I'm still a dreamer,
I won't let anyone let me down.
So please, wait a while for you and your white horse to come around.

I will forever and ever be a chronic procrastinator.
There is no cure.
No willpower
I am convinced.

The skies, they are yours.
The pink, the purple, the blue, the gray.
All reflections of you.
The earth, it is yours.
The textures, the altitudes, the depths, the fruit.
All reflections of you.
The waters, they are yours.
The mystery, the medium, the power, the stillness.
All reflections of you.
The fire, it is yours.
The passion, the fury, the way it consumes.
All reflections of you.
The creatures, they are yours.
The types, the patterns, the colors, the purposes.
All reflections of you.
I… I am yours.
My mind, my body, my soul, my creativity, my desires, my love.
All reflections of you.

Now, as you have made,
So will I.
In all my futility.
In all my limitations,
In my inability to see beyond the fog,
I will create.
For this is your will.
That your people would not succumb to what is normal,
To what is set.
But that we would use our hands,
Our thoughts,
Our hearts,
To create something beautiful,
As an offering.
For you.

I see you sometimes, you know?
Here and There.
I can feel you, sometimes.
My heart beats at the thought of your eyes.
Blue, green, brown?
Will they penetrate my soul?
Will they get who I really am?
Or simply see right through me,
Missing the whole point,
Like the last...
Nodding his way through it all,
Lying his way through life,
Kidding himself, always.
But no, this time will be different.
I swear it.
I owe you that much.
And your smile?
Will it be bright?
Will it carry me through the bad?
How about the good?
I need your joy. I need it.
Oh, that smile.
Will it be like the last?
Using that smile to pretend,
To hide it all,
To generate false joy,
Tricking me,
Making me believe I was happy.
I wasn't happy.
I want to be happy.
But no, not you.
I swear it.
You'll be different, you see.
You must be.
I saw you last week, you know?
At the supermarket.
Those eyes, that smile.
So promising.
You saw me, too.
I saw you two weeks ago, you see.
Downtown.
That talent, that connection.
A one-way connection.
You missed me, as you do most times.
I see you every night, truly.
Though the fog is thick,
And I'm scared to venture out,
You're there.
You will be there.
One day, it will all become clear.