Facade

There are no words to describe what is in my head, what is in my heart. I'm sore from all the cartwheels I've done. Seemingly, there is a tree up close and the forest cannot be seen. I talk as if I want to be figured out, but if I were it would do nothing but break what little has been built. My time is spent pondering what is real and what isn't. I know I can't keep a grip any longer, for then surely, it will be taken away. That is the least of my desires.
Heart, be silent... Mind, be still... Soul, wait.