I step out for some fresh air and the door closes behind me.
Thin freezing lines dart forth.
It's been a long time since I've been in a torrential downfall. That heavy thudding sound drumming at your ears from inside your shelter, acoustic vibrations running along every physical configuration, a canyoned gamut oppressively pouring upon every form, gargantuan force molded from countless barely detectable stirrings. Too many drops to fathom (even out in the deepest sea), all expressed in a single unpronounceable onomatopoeia - like those reverse-transmogrified cactus sticks with the needles inside that sound impossibly long.
Sometimes I feel a bit silly about all this.
Truth be told, I'm in a funny place right now. It feels like I'm anchored to some inane logic that's driving me around in circles. Or that I'm finally getting mired in my own bad decisions. I make a lot of bad decisions, but there's usually a kind of grace which carries me through them (it's not quite the hallelujah type). I have a strange, secret kind of hope, one that's quiet and patient and persistent, and lately it feels a little thin. It's a call for change, maybe. I don't want to roam restlessly - I want to keep moving towards the place I want to stay.
If you're on a similar road, I wish you fortitude, good companionship, and the best of luck.
Perhaps one day we'll meet with eyes closed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands
E.E. Cummings - [somewhere i have never travelled]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thin freezing lines dart forth.
It's been a long time since I've been in a torrential downfall. That heavy thudding sound drumming at your ears from inside your shelter, acoustic vibrations running along every physical configuration, a canyoned gamut oppressively pouring upon every form, gargantuan force molded from countless barely detectable stirrings. Too many drops to fathom (even out in the deepest sea), all expressed in a single unpronounceable onomatopoeia - like those reverse-transmogrified cactus sticks with the needles inside that sound impossibly long.
Sometimes I feel a bit silly about all this.
Truth be told, I'm in a funny place right now. It feels like I'm anchored to some inane logic that's driving me around in circles. Or that I'm finally getting mired in my own bad decisions. I make a lot of bad decisions, but there's usually a kind of grace which carries me through them (it's not quite the hallelujah type). I have a strange, secret kind of hope, one that's quiet and patient and persistent, and lately it feels a little thin. It's a call for change, maybe. I don't want to roam restlessly - I want to keep moving towards the place I want to stay.
If you're on a similar road, I wish you fortitude, good companionship, and the best of luck.
Perhaps one day we'll meet with eyes closed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands
E.E. Cummings - [somewhere i have never travelled]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------