Shear

What would you do, dear Scholar?

What is it that you want me to learn now? What is it that you’re trying to say?

Please, just tell me who you are, and what you speak of. I know not of your intentions, and what is to become of them.

What is it that you are trying to teach?

What is it in my soul that brings such news to me? Why have I become your tensed rope, continually being stretched reversibly? Why such a strong, rigid rope that can hold so much physically? Does nature know of this? Are you gloating of your expertise?

You took my protector away. You took it in my dreams. I noticed that one morning. You remember. Are you telling me these fairy tale dreams that I make of this world are deceiving? Why won’t you give me the strength to move on my own?

I will never stop having faith in you, in the palms of my hands. But don’t make me lose it.

I have your opening of the mind. I can see your purpose. I see your intentions. I don’t wish to bring you back from your rest. I want to know why it is I that must be the apparition of your dreams. Why do you dream me? Why do your silhouettes and hope form the figures that form me? Why is it only I that sees through these eyes?

Why do I see everything, yet see nothing at all?

Please, help me. Bring me answers. Tell me what I should do. I do not ask to foresee, I ask of your counsel. Bring yourself to me.