Through You

[Onyxaeon]

I envy you.
In every way that can be,
And every way that really even shouldn’t.
For the things I see in you and not myself,
For the things I cannot do that you take to new depths,
For your freedom of which I dearly lack,
And for your passion for which I have not yet found,
I envy you.
Perhaps the old saying holds some truth:
We oft hate those who remind us of ourselves.
But I don’t hate you.
I will quarrel,
And we are not truly fond of the other,
But there is no resentment,
No ill blood between we misplaced souls.
We are a breed not yet fit for our time,
Or, at least I’m not.
You, perhaps, will survive.
Because you have known all the motions,
As if you could see beyond what you show.
I suppose that, though I may never know all the steps as you,
I must learn to join the dance.
Even if this means crumbling beneath the weight
Of those surrounding,
In turn the lot demanding I tuck my tail and hide
Under the master’s whip.
But you didn’t waver.
You did not flinch.
Because you and I know well we are not property,
No beast bidden to the will of others.
So, too, will be my hope for myself.
Through you,
To me.