This is beautiful Bradd, truly. "but what did he call himself? there the confusion lies Two beings fighting under the same blanket of skin." - this is the realization that we are not ONE but two as soon as we are created and exposed to the external world. "his two beings melted together, fused with the knowledge of harmony. Shaping his body into a form of power." - yes, it is the ONE who we really ARE, and who we SHOULD BE. This is a beautiful poem about self discovery, about the unification of the spirit, the merging of mind, body, and soul "the boy now knew what to call himself...he called himself love, in flame form" - There can be no rebirth without death, and it is in this profound realization attained through experience alone that we can find our true BEING, and yes, the ONE can only exist as LOVE. When fighting fire with fire, one gains the knowledge only by becoming the very flame. That's what I saw. Beautiful comeback, I think you have not just filled your well with the rainwater, but have created an oasis from which the self may drink and ressurect himself time and again. Great job :-)

this is cute braddly. "in flame form", that makes me giggle. i think you expressed yourself well in this. it's like the evolution of you. the way you grew up. but if it's that i'd rather see something of a real experience, like with your dad or mom, or just you. something more raw without poetic devices or words like harmony. give me something humiliating or dirty or sad or funny, in the detail you'd like to use, to describe a moment or series of moments. hm, just an option.

Bradd, you're so right on the mark when you point out the power we all have when our many personal facets are harmoniously merged. My favotite line is "Discovered his own large hands with the delicate fingertips". Such an excellent poem of self discovery.

Wow, Bradd, I'm glad you found your writing power again. Yes, by saying, "power," I mean this is a powerful read. We are often raised to see the world as black and white when we are young ... no grays, pinks, "flames," or other such colors. Growing up can be quite difficult, and finding and being comfortable in our own skin ... even more difficult. "Shaping his body into a form of power. Discovered his own large hands with the delicate fingertips" ... I was so touched by these lines, along with the rest of the way the poem flowed to its unique ending. You've said a whole lot here, Bradd. A whole lot indeed.

Two beings eventually becoming one through conflict is attaining ONENESS within and yes, now one can give a name.