It’s crazy to see someone’s future in their face.
It’s doubtful that they ever knew how inside of you trickled a tiny stream of phrases promising without delivery an action that never arrived. It’s dubious that they ever imagined that the tiny rivulet would become secret floodwaters within you that one day would drown out all ideas pertaining to them as the surge broke down the wooden posts only half-blocking their phrases from the machines within your head that processed the wood into truth. Little did they all know that within you were compartmentalizations of them that became a burden too heavy to hear by the cabinets inside of you that held their weight. Shocked will they be when the contents fall to the floor and the flood eroded the wooden structure of the homes they built within you with your permission. Fortunate will you be when all that is broken is washed away leaving you with a clean slate to build your own walls.
What you know so far is limited, but one day you’ll know a lot more.
May the wind hold me for I am feeling quite tired. Perhaps it will carry me home into the grove filled with flowers and lay me down to sleep for a while. I have opened my chest and have let its contents spill out with sharp red rubies hoping that only good will come about.
May the sun come and dry away the cool rains that have woken me up from this charade.
Time is hot and moving constantly towards an infinite sum of moments that you can hold in your hands and pour into a soul. Time is the hope that do-overs can be granted now that you have gained the secrets of those fleeting moments upon ticking hands. Like clockwork we are made to start again what we once completed and with wistfulness we make our new attempts dreaming of a better tomorrow.
So ethereal, the way the water pools into my cupped hands; its velvety caress and the cacophony of unpatterned rhythm lure me in to a tantric state. The being becomes what it surrounds itself with, the enlightenment comes from acceptance and awareness of this magical world around us. I am on a higher plane and outer space can be so refreshing.
Maybe I get a little antsy when things get tough. I clean my ambiance to refresh my aching muscles, especially the heart. Maybe I just want someone to hold my hand, look into my eyes and tell me that there’s company in the mess—the achy mess.