Homunculi

(A little Full Metal Alchemist and 2 am rambles in my head. It could be a spoken word 'poem')

My personification of traits, dare I explore them, cherish and nurture them, and then let them go.

Each one of them is played by a beautiful woman: cunning and coy, unwavering.  Deep and honest, they pull me towards them and take me out of balance.  They are a projection of my own imperfections.

First is Passion: the reason, the motivation and medium. She carries with her my self expression and dreams and maybe even the future.  Oh, but she is fickle, her whims  are far between as she jumps between hearts and minds.  So many seek her, and she chooses her own simplicity.  She is an ideal, an unreachable goal, a perfection marred by its own perfection.  To let her go, means learning there is more to the world; to become humble. She is my Greed and my Pride

Second is Spirit: the free, the young, the rebel.  She is the dancer, body and untamed heart  She is my recklessness, restlessness and my deep gaze into the past while hurtling blindly into the future.  Even in a deep embrace she yearns for freedom.  And as she dances towards her comforts clinging to her desires, she lets me gaze for just a moment and follow her.  Setting her free will give me peace and serenity.  She is my Envy and Gluttony.

Third is Locus: the ground beneath my feet.  Deeply rooted in her traditions and a she reflects my own.  She is a rock, tough as nails yet still delicate as shale and easy to chip. She holds natures grace and the futures changes.  Her gravity is hard to escape.  Releasing her, I gain freedom and truth. She is my Sloth and my Wrath.

And the three are the Lust, piercing my heart,weakening my body and shaking my soul. As they disappear and fade, I gain my strength and fight.

By letting them go, I can become a better man, though more of a fool who's challenge is only fate.

My minds still racing, my body was racing, and theres still a little redbull,
My heart is still racing
Im home
The spirit is jaded, the flowers are withered, and still not delivered
But i found some escape, on the road i was speeding
My mind was clear, just because it had to, else i would crash
Into lights i cant see, my vision is fading
But im not complaining about the hairs that are greying
And contemplating, and my mind is debating
What my heart has been choosing, and what the universe is playing
Am i still chasing, can i keep running
And ive been distracted, but i need that distraction
I have to think of construction, to a work that precedes me
So im just trying to empty
The words that are just coming to me so i can sleep like baby
I just want to come down, ever so slowly,
Trying not to feel lonely
But soon i can dream, on my bed so comfy
When i am without me
And just sleeping soundly.

isnt this?

Isn't this what we romantics do?
wallow in our sorrows and drown in our bleeding hearts
and do we not as poets
write passage and prose on page upon page to keep from falling apart?
oh there are no tears
just letters and ink stained on digital parchment
and pieces of ourselves
buried deeper and deeper within our souls compartments
So to not give up the likes
of  romance and love and poetry and faith
is just what we romantics do
with restless hearts, spoken words, and utmost grace

slowly, deliberately
my fingers caress her curves
gently, with care
with passion, each press
massaging, inviting
gazing deeply with each turn
finishing, completing
she is satisfied