six a m

it's six am, cold, the sun peaking, behind me you follow slowly. you are my protector. i wonder how you came to me, how you knew to choose me, of all the places and people you've seen. i somehow became your challenging masterpiece, all broken and displaced, wandering emptiness. how did i come to this desert? and how did you come to be?.. motherless, heroic, the age of aquarian prophet. i wish that i could absorb everything good in you so it can make me strong and unafraid, but somehow i'm completely ok with my fragile self, layered and contradicted.