Jordan Hilton 2017
When I Stand Before You
The trickling of cacti along my desert complexion makes its prevalence when I stand before you, unchanged yet uncertain.
The lengthy breadth of my bereavement is something willingly taken when I stand before you. Distinction, public or near, remote or distant, I cannot stand before you.
No notice of my presence, not a single drop of rain to the desert, when I stand before you.
Seamlessly unintelligible like the complexion of the sand, as it inflicts mist of yellow.
Its importance, to be spoken to, heard from and included, when I stand before you.
Is something now I need not receive when I stand before you.
Beauty, is something truly dispersing to the human eye. It has taken upon hours, minutes, seconds only to experience exuberance formed from the epiphany of thou blind sightings. How does one express such fondness for this figure of beauty? It is to believe that their noticing will be the eventual tale, which when unravelled produces a network of love and friendship?
Or is it to indulge in that exuberance and take great leaps forward in faith and human resolve?
I cannot stand here no longer, for the days pass where the agenda of education and minor authorities only puts silence to my words.
I, the observer of attraction and continuity, cannot see past the repeating of history itself. If thou cannot show discretion in infatuation, then thou standing solid is no longer strong.