It is difficult to know where to begin,
when we know all that we carry has an invisible weight.
Like fallen leaves drifting to the forest floor.
Some less than whole, some more.
There lies a strange state
a mess in order
a fleeting vision
a passing indisposition
an underlying, ever present abiding under-current of our natural state
where rhythm should be,
but there’s space around an expected beat
we don’t hear.
Slowly but gradually,
it gravitates and consumes you.
(and consumes you)
We repel against it
in fear and faith
in loss and reluctance
in hope and courage.
We know it isn’t always about the fight,
but for the fear as part of the lesson -
of letting go,
of unguarded honesty
of the inevitable human blunder.
Resulting in a mockery of the disparate space between expectations and reality.
But the little one inside reminds me,
it’s a world outside covered in cobbler crust of brown, sugar and cinnamon.
There’s a hopeful ignorance in
a safe kind of bliss
a state of comfort
a state of alleviation.
And in the strange (wistful) passing of time,
only tiny bits will ever make sense at once.
From withering, we harden by the day.
From falling, we let go of the weight we carry.
We once made a deal with time,
not it’s slipping by too fast –
But we knew there will always be the promise of the next autumn
to make up for the end
And a new beginning.
Like polar opposites, I’ve always wondered if they/we exist on the same magnet, or exist as two polar opposites of two different ones.
But they say, magnetic fields are the forces encountered by two permanent magnets. Oh, how beautiful it can come in many shapes, and also very much with many conflicting desires?
Try to fathom if both attraction and repulsion can coexist. I know there is something odd. I’m not sure if I actually like having this magnetic force field. Sometimes it scares me a little with its infinity and uncertainty. Sometimes it calms me down with its stability and strange pull -
pretty much, like a routine.
Nevertheless, I believe my perception is largely reduced the more I know. There is an discomfort in attempting to pin down the exact nature of this experience – for I feel finite in my own personal force field that is constructed within the confines of the infinite.
Still, though incredibly powerful, the field lines remain to be invisible. At the age where attraction is experienced before it is understood, perhaps they are meant to be. Permanent magnets do not understand the motion of time and distance. When they attract each other, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to each other.
They only know when it feels right to be with each other.
From a fledgling writer eavesdropping her own mind.
There, they coalesce as lumps in our throats.