Layers Of Me

Another day,
and how does one explain
this strange feeling—
to want and not want,
to dream and yet be awake?
Who can fathom a mind
that spins at random,
a heart at odds
with a calculating brain?

To love and long for touch,
yet crave the quiet of solitude;
to see a flower bloom
and let its scent
overpower the soul,
a simple joy
amidst the storm of thoughts.

What can one say
when the mind whispers
what the heart aches to hear?
When we are both nobody
and everybody,
a single self,
a multitude of layers.

How can we unravel
what lies beneath
these veils of contradictions?
Am I a devil or a saint,
a hypocrite caught
between good intentions
and fleeting failures?

Who can save a soul
so tangled in its own threads?
If I breathe, if I die,
would salvation come?
Or is it found in the embrace
of this eternal conflict—
to be whole
within the fragments of me?