What breaks my heart is sympathy

from folks who don’t see what I reach,

Folks who see me grasping air

and think that’s all that I can’t see.

 

What inspires me is out of reach,

persuasion is that I can see it,

what grounds me is grasping air;

What I reach is always near.

 

What conquers me might be fear,

what pushes me might be its brethren;

But who I am is that which sired;

Who I am is more than me.

 

Enough about me,

let’s make this about you:

Are you ever understood —

Don’t you find you’re written short

 

of any thing you know you are

by others who don’t feel your light?

Have you flirted with other light?

Did you know you’re stereotyped?

 

How I would be wasting time,

spinning nowhere in your orbit.

However that would be a lie.

And so would I.