You are my less travelled.
You are my vastness.
A wonderment deeply engraved.
You are to sight, slumber.
You are to dawn, night.
You are to the mind, thoughts of bewilder and awe.
“The problem wasn’t soley the storm, rather the fear of it. The fear of feeling the cloud pass though ones being. What the gusts take away and what it gives.”
Nourishment rests within the cloud. Moisture seeps into dry essence.
Chaos of weather stirs a stagnet breath.
The storm bears down upon a soul heaving. The blade within pierces through breathless air. Raining upon essence, newness of life.
“Truth lays within, behind reflections.”
Rythms entrance the soul. Slumber seeps into verities essence.
In labor askew musings emanate.
As the sole paces into deep forest, lost in hazes of color, so the soul slumbers to moments unbecoming.
Awake!! Remove the cloaked memories. No longer fear your own silence. No longer deprive self of verity passing through the souls essence.
Hear the pressing of silence upon upon your being and toil with night no longer.
Is it the coldness within, that creates the coldness without?
The same affections that lure you, injury you.
The same trust that brings you to openness creates lasting scars.
Is the world that’s grown colder, or we that grow colder to the world?
My greatest reflection of self and truth lay upon stone.
Exposed through battles.
Made alive through fear.
Able to hear silence by the outward ear closing.
Seeing truth while the physical eye closes to all that’s tangible.
Perceptions change depending upon where the sole paces.
Granting the soul freedom to hear wisdom through endless formations upon stone.
Immersed by waters to deep.
The soul suffocated by waters depths. Engulfed by immeasurable vastness.
The recesses of my being soddened and submerged in waters bellowing waves.
I had to drown in waters depths to be awakened from slumber, made conscious from waters death and reborn from a wave that washed away barren life.
“The man that had raised me, carried what he could, shown strength unwavering had now become someone different. Sitting through treatments with him I could see what he would never say. To the woman struggling to survive her cancer, I could see words hovering above her.”
The words are never spoken.
Language rests upon the door frame. A jewel of assortments.
Upon the ground a medley of tones. Your sole paces this path lightly, in fear of touching its language.
You speak to me about other things. Anxiety overwhelms you, you get up from your chair to glance out the window in hopes of distraction. Utterances rest like cloth in an empty chair.
Standing at the coffee machine now I see the words hovering above you awaiting you, desiring to be tasted. Language,and tones clothed in flavors of anxiety, fear, hope, weakness, strength, and lethargy. Many more words I do not have a relation with.
How do you taste of a moment you fear and absorb what may be your last standing battle.
The words are all around you. Taste of them slowly, becoming all these words at once will drown you.