And he cries......
With a silent pitch that unnerves my soul........
Like a whistle only keen to a dog's ears....
Like an open mouth silent scream in a nightmare......
Helpless, I reach for him.....
He sees my outstretched hand but is paralyzed to grab hold.....
The pitch is deafening to my ears.....
I ache to pull him in closer.....
To whisper, "You have the power!"....
But I wrestle with my innate, helpful will....
I dont want to be an obstacle on his path....
I dont want to impede this journey, his journey.....
His compass to find himself......
For now, he is blinded by the fog....
Yet obstinate to dig out his own boulevard.....
He cannot see the tools that surround him....
That would ease this laborious exhaustion that engulfs him.....
"It's here!" I long to bellow........
"Try this one!" I scream under my own voice......
"I'm here!" I repeat in every moment....
In my words, in my actions, in just being present to him.....
.......and he cries.......
