The Relevance Of Metaphors Poem by James Darwin Smith II

Upon metaphors I exist
Flying high beyond simplicity's abyss
Catching the golden airs of a musing mist
Acceptance in all of its sacred glory
Beautiful essence of a multi-dimensional bliss



Hearing ethereal music in background
Haunting in such a divine way
Flaws all around, But that is the way
Towards the thoughts of a cathartic release
No more stress in this very moment, Right here



Here it does not matter what I have
Money is not welcomed here
To feel important is to feel surreal
If only such a place was really, for real



What is wrong with dreams?
Reality has its sharp edges
Used to cut the throats of innocence
Blaming it on those with no blood on their hands



I daydream and daydream away
So much so it's like I am not even here
A Ghost I am in a phantom realm
Screaming but nothing comes out
Silent in the regards of environmental chaos endured



In this mind I dig even deeper within
Sorry I am not here on the outside
This place I am loves me
Like I have never been loved before



Losing touch, missing out
Never meant to ignore anyone
So much comfort to reside within
No worries about suffering



Looking out
In the wrong
The inner self only goes so far
Nothing all around
On a road too long, full of divergence
Digging back in
Deeper than ever dug before
Learning how to guide myself in-between
The two universes as one



On the outside
And on the in
Feeling complete
Though everything still stand
So further than I ever imagined
Yet, I fight for it all to be near in the here
As the there will never bother me again



Upon metaphors I exist
Even if eyes many never see me
I will be myself no matter what
This is the only way I will thrive in this journey



So much loneliness I admit
But at least I know who I am



A man that metaphors gave their most enigmatic of consent



Do you see me?
Please accept these metaphors with earnest respect



In this world
I am only trying to exist in ways I walk alone



What is really true success?
Does my heart have any say?



Life, A project an artist's dreams to pave
In the ways beyond the limits of yesterday



Can I be left being right
drawing a painting of the canvas while writing stanzas?


Who will ever read my life's novel anyway?



Maybe people now will truly realize why metaphors exist