The trees rustle in the wind as bird chirp their unique trill. My body is surrounded by a fresh wind on a warm day and it feels like a mint leaf, aromatic and icy at the touch. Meanwhile my head is fuzzy as if bees had been buzzing around it all morning. The sun’s rays warm up the ground and shine with the splendor of starlight as I sit here calmly in a meditative state.
It was an Iowa spring that made me love sunrises and cloudy days. It was in the coolness of raindrops that fell upon my face and in the freshness of petrichor in the air that I awoke spiritually.
Barefoot amidst the movement of lapping, cold waves—a gentle soul walks onward into the ocean. Mangrove branches loop out from the water and marine alluvium soils. Tiny fish grow within the intertidal zone, protected by the plants and disrupted by her calm feet digging into the sand. Hair wild amidst the cool sun rays softly kissing each eye into a deeper caramel hue. The water against her strong ankles as low pools fill and recede into the Earth. Gusts pick up cooling a body flowing in tandem with the ocean waves as the heart connects to the soul of the ocean.
Asteroids are falling into my atmosphere, their burning traces, crystal prisms.
They dig deep into my chest, opening spaces where perhaps leaves will grow after we sow this burned soil.
Flutters of color like butterfly wings whispering pieces of song that sirens can nice upon a time would sing.
Maybe these leaves will be blown to the water when the gusts pick up as none of this matters.
Recalling nights when the gentlest of hands tucked loose strands of hair behind my ear. When lips softly touched porcelain skin with care to not smudge, with care to not break and I knew what it was to love.
The silk of words that ran down my spine left me reminders that I was once yours and you were once mine. We walked hand in hand to the cherry blossoms and laid one another down onto dewy grass and crisp air that woke us from the trance we had been in prior.
In unison we could breathe in filling the lungs of each other in ways that the spring breeze could not. You were my Buddhist and I your lotus flower and together we laid our souls bare with love at that hour.
There are moments when each sense is tuned to perfection, pin-drop sharpness. Every ting calls a frequency that is ready to integrate itself into your neuronal circuitry. A sharpness characteristic of electrically charged clouds that cause atoms to burst upon collision with one another. In these moments you hear every conversation and can tune yourself into every breath inside this waiting room. Everything is so perfectly defined that you have a difficult time distinguishing line from line. Each breath is made of the sound of waves crashing perfectly imperfectly onto the rock holding up the coast.
Her vision blurs and white noise creeps over her eyes. Her viewpoint is static…chhhhhzzzz… Patterned surfaces are too vivid with screams so loud they inundate her ears with the color of yellow. She’s too clear up in her head and she’s about to devour the atmosphere with one big gulp that will leave everything surrounding her breathless. Her head is a staticky TV screen with that sound of sirens moving too quickly to be discerned as so. Every color is so vivid and she wonders what drug the world prescribed today as she struggles to climb over the cliff edge called her senses. When the sounds get too loud, the silence is white noise inside her head. Like a monitor with an unsteady connection she fades in and out of gray, white, and black dots moving quickly like the atoms she feels in each fingertip. The electricity has her wired to the metals close by and she can’t disentangle her hair from the cables administering static shock. Tingly sensation and like a toy that just short-circuited, her mind’s gone.