When you call out my name, you will have to call it out more than once; scream at the top of your lungs, like trying to alert danger – for my wandering mind makes it impossible for my ears to hear. If you are close enough, whisper to me of the long list of trauma and sorrow you have witnessed us endure, but please, speak even softer to me of the lack of solutions and relief that we’ve been able to fathom this far. Like these long and treacherous droughts, this life has long since begun to bleed me dry, I can feel my skin ache and burn against the once ever-loving rays of this summers sun. It brings me back to a time where I would once chase it in open plains, speak to it atop grassy and green hilltops, and gaze upon it behind stained yet large windows – safe from the heat it imbued.
But much like of most of all that I’ve come to know, things have long since been altered, changed for the worst, and are now falling apart in ways I could never have imagined. The crumbling’s and shattering’s of such things are the seeds of our past that will soon come back to haunt us – like most things, they are ever-growing one way or another, festering beneath the foundation we’ve once thought of as safe. As the weights of my burdens grew too hard to bear, conjointly to the very cracking and unraveling of the foundation that holds this reality together; I have long since sown my sufferings in hopes of lightening the weight, but in doing so, I know all to well of what awaits beyond the horizon as this darkened sun seeks to cast it’s rays on these seeds of suffering that keep us bound to this earth. Like a promise within a paradox that is impossible to break, have our fates long since been sealed? For as soon as fruitions are set in stone this reality will break, one way or another setting it all ablaze, only to eventually be washed away in a pool of darkness that I am all to familiar with. But until that time comes I will move tirelessly through day dreams, and dreamless nights to restore what has been lost in the seeds I’ve sown, for their very growth and glory depends on where I wish to be and how I plan to get there. For these are the final movements that I may ever know, and in making them, I will be sure they double as the amalgamation between myself and what’s been planted below.
