bustling streets and hushed children spill through the alleys of this part of the dusty town
booths set up with colorful insignias and loud sales-people, desperate to sell their wares
the air has this rhythm of a steady pulse as the street grows more crowded
it's surprising anyone can hear anything to be honest
there's a cascade of shadows beating down on the writhing mass in the roads
a welcome change of pace from the normal heat of the over-working over wound clock that normally makes this area swell
the merchants keep begging for people to buy their materials
love, happiness, forgiveness, patience; to name a few
prices are on a bartering system; take what you need, pay what you can
but despite the same merchants being here for years, they never seem satiated.
when did this marketplace even open?
do the beggars ever go home?
do homes even exist here?
i suppose it doesn't matter.
today the marketplace is slowing down,
the stress of the economy and lack of need to stay open is drawing it to its final frontier
a massive economic shift is rattling the nation now
no need to barter, no need to beg;
no need to settle, no need to simply "make-do" with what you have
things are getting healthier, now.
the bazaar is already starting to dwindle now as the sun dims for the first time in years
the over worked sun can finally rest and the need to fight to be happy is finally closing down
merchants scramble to make closed signs; they've never needed them before this
as they pack their goods up, they leave the booths that they've been cemented too for as long as they've existed
they head home.
the city is seemingly expanding around them as their feet tiredly trudge towards what they want to be their home,
the city sleeps and the restless street is now quiet.
things aren't just free now, mind you
things are just fair, for once
the moon's thin crescent wavers over the town as everyone rests
the pulsating that's normally a rapid throb is simply a slow and steady flap,
like a large bird's wing or the leading beat in a draft horse's canter
things are calm.
things are happy.
emotions are no longer a bartering tool and although the change won't happen over night,
i feel loved; nearly unconditionally.
i don't feel like i have to beg for the small things,
i don't have to stress about being enough or being worthy
i'm so happy, genuinely.
i only hope you can feel the same adoration that i have for you
the butterflies and the flowers;
the sun and the moon;
the clouds and the stars.
it all fills my chest in a marriage of melody and bliss,
i feel so seen.
i love you
