Wisteria skies are on fire with the pretty pink and purple petals against the backdrop of red and orange sky-flames. Time shifts and rolling white foamy clouds fill a cold sky as hail and snow fall in disorderly ways. The warm liquid pours down my throat, leaving a burning sensation when all outside is freezing. My hand is held and I am wrapped in strong and safe arms. I just had the realization that the skies mirrored what I once called love.
You will always know what’s true and what’s transient. Your heart will tell you. So choose the memories you make wisely lest you’d like to indulge sadness.
She asked for you to give what you could not, would not,chose to not provide. She spoke in hushed tones to the leaves so they could find and entwine her thoughts into flowers to bind into her hair—her dress was bare.
In whispered secrets, petals perfect falling down to ground that was dewy and refreshed so her soul could be newly found. She entered opal structures and enclosed her intentions with the hope that they would guide her ascension.
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.
I’ve been seeking something that no one has helped me find and as I walk through this journey I bide my time with hopes that everything will soon fall in line.