I Was Never Here

For whatever reason, some men see me, not for who I am, but rather for what they wish or need to see.

You will never find me.
Yet cheated by your sight
You chase me in delight

As morning comes you'll find me.
Yet your vision in the light of day,
Slow, but surely fades away.

Illusion shattered instantly,
by mornings sober interference,
you mourn my disappearance.

Foolishly, you track me down
Waiting for last light to disappear
As sky darkens, hope turns into fear

You chase through the night.
you see me dancing in the meadows
With your slow approach, desperation grows

You reach for me, you try to touch me
I disappear into the morning mist
I was never here, I do not exist.

Mai L. Nissen, February 2012

Author's Note

Picture in 'Haze' mode of part of a painting from 'House of Artists'.

Criticism is well received!

Reviews

[James O'Rourke]

Mai, this is an interesting poem.

After my initial read I was getting the sense of something astral. Something like stars or the moon. They disappear and reappear with light and darkness. Then, upon reading the little quoted description, I read the piece and was met with visions of people chasing one another through mist and meadows, through day and night.

I really do enjoy the duality I feel from the poem as a whole. I realize that it may not be the intended reaction, but this duality (and perhaps my initial confusion) adds to that feeling of being seen as someone or something you may not be, but someone or something desired by others.

An intricate piece in my opinion with multiple layers that asks the reader not only to look outwardly, but inwardly for interpretations. Cap's off to you and well done!

[Mai L Nissen]

Thank you for taking the time to read and comment! Much appreciated :)
I was not thinking specifically about the moon or stars, but you are not entirely wrong. I did wish to paint the picture of something that changes depending on when and how you look at it... A feeling and moment of realisation, that is true in that moment for the person experiencing them, but you cannot hold onto or force a single moment. I also had the idea of a spirit or old norse elven that is connected to nature, that to the believer really exists. A reality that does not materialize, have any real substance.

[Terrence Chang]

The art of love is a chase. In desperation you go in dilutions. Cajoling with the mental stability. It is an evanescence of one's dream. An everlasting despair in sour grief. Most likely to be uncertain in the cloud of reality. I am really intrigued by your flair of writhing

[Mai L Nissen]

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Terrance. I appreciate your words :)

[Terrence Chang]

You're welcome

[Jamestown]

Really enjoyed this piece! The last stanza is definitely my favorite,
I like the fluency and expression. Thanks for sharing and b-blessed!

[Mai L Nissen]

Thank you for your kind words, JT :)

[Jamestown]

Welcome and hope all is well:)

[Mai L Nissen]

A bit worn out the last week or so, but everything is fine :) Spring is slowly making its existence known in Denmark, so can't complain! I hope things are well with you too :)