Ad Libitum

Sorts of Catharsis

Originally written 24 April 2020

((Intimidated? Good. I didn't really want anyone reading it anyway. I needed to publish and forget it so I never have to open it and feel embarrassed again.))

Vibrations from strings on a bough's ancestor tinged the silent room of nature; yea, a room it seems, where peace and dormancy run rampant, especially during the witching hour. It seems anything except misfortune since as I'd played, the motherly wave of warmth had passed over me and I could feel the sensations at my fingertips. The cold wind hadn't bothered to caress my lips yet made hums far more melodious than the tunes I'd played. Not that I knew much already, I decided to stop and let the earth sing. As it did, I'd closed my eyes and imagined my singing in unison with its airy croons and fell more and more enamored with the way its wordless refrains explained and meant more than that of my favorite songs. When I opened my eyes, they were pointed at the sky where I let them rest and watched the thin, fast clouds moving like birds in a flock, gracefully wisping past my bemused eyes and drooping lids; they traveled from east to west, following their figurehead that is the sun. They formed the lifeless shapes of ships and sailed as such along the earth's aura to join their consorts over the horizon. It was in this moment I'd thought of you, and what a ship might have meant, for I know it's been a while since it'd crossed my mind. Yet you are always there, and I wonder why. As the wind blew a cool refrain, I'd felt overwhelmed with the beauty of the ambiance before me and had felt so lucky to have been experiencing it. I wish you could too, though I know you have in the days of yore far before me. When quiescence met my ears, I heard the stray tomcats around my sitting stature and dead instrument purring as they sat exactly a foot away it seemed, and no matter how much I'd coerced them to meet me, they'd insisted on being distant, just as the clouds had insisted on moving away from me like the phases I'd undergone and abandoned. It's odd to me that a friend now had us introduced; that a woman of cat-like distinction had insisted on my induction to you. I often wonder what it means, nonetheless, I am thankful for your help in all things beautiful. I believe you are beautiful, too. Perhaps more than the things you'd written about? It takes beauty to witness beauty; much more to bear it, and I am far more thankful than anyone I'd care to meet for your existence and it's short yet imperative time on our world. I am happy to stand on the same earth you did and gaze under the same moon and stars you had. Perhaps in looking at this another time, I will not remember who I was speaking of, but I know now. Perhaps another time in looking at this I will feel differently toward you and pummel myself for feeling as I do now, but I assure you it's true. Perhaps another time in looking at this I will know what you meant to me, and perhaps you will mean more to me then. Even so, catharsis is this.