Revelry

How many of me are there?
How far can I extend
    this mind, these hours, this heart,
    this atlas of skin and experience,
    these eyes hungry for rain and laughter.
No, let us not delegate.
Let me only do what cannot be delegated.
Let me burn at all ends at the same time.
I am not a candle.
Let me go out with the last of my light,
if that is what it takes.

Let me have the gift of revelry
and I shall gladly pay its dues:
Broken heart?
    That means I have glimpsed happiness,
    whether or not I found it or kept it.
Exhaustion, frustration?
    So what if my dreams ran further than my reach.
Calm, ecstasy, laughter?
    Joy is stubbornly possible despite myself.

I am measured not by the countless unfinished aspirations,
but by the few that became a surprise even to me.
I am measured not by my darkness,
but by the flame visible against it.

Melih Sener