The heart knows not the longing that awaits it.
Control is not to be found anywhere.
This thing made between us, not a thing made by us, but merely because
of us. This heart that beats for you in wanting,
knows not you, but only the rythm of it's own desire. There is no
control here.
This thought of you in my head, placed here by whom and why?
The thought knows not the rationale in it's own process, but merely
continues on it's task unknowningly.
All these things that have directed me, direct me now and continue to
direct me to you, where have they come from?
I have no control over them, they are as if they are not my own, but
belonging to someone other.
They carry me, they propel me, they launch me, they send me to the
place you are and I know not how I got there.
I know not how I got here.
This place this moment.
I have no control, I can not stop it.
I pulled and pushed and tried to draw away from all of this.
Yet I can not.
I do not refuse it now, it is too late for me.
I am filled up with you, from my head to my toes.
I do not want to be away from you.
You will not let me go, even if I wanted to.
Too late for us both.
There is no control.
There is no control, for I do not want it, I want to let it go, let
myself go, let us go, whenever to wherever and however.
Explaining leads to confusion.
Explaining is merely a way of finding control.
There is none, for I do not want it.
Let it all come, wash over, spill over, create mayhem, for I will let
it. Let it come, let it
go, just let it be.
It will be as it should and what it was meant to be and I will let it.
For there is no control, I do not want it.
