a small token of kindness (11th October 2021)
the sun we often admire is a dream of late October- that which is available to iron caged eyes and a heart drenched in coffee like brown sidewalks. is it reality or a winter kissed dream drawn bit by bit into hearts to keep them from rotting?
and the moon knows the silence of the loud clearer than the ocean's buried lies. it has not lived centuries only to be deceived by spells of the transients. even though the whispers of the dark are similar to the velvet of a breath too lost, the sun's shine always burned an octave higher.
when the forest speaks, the time like an ancient city forgets its name; its splendour and its trembles. it abandons its identity and sinks into the sand of seconds. it stays, but it is what is lost. for once, it the one who goes missing into the fields.
time only watches, observes and bears; it has no power to move away. no matter the severity, it stares blankly. it is lonely, it falls apart and cannot keep any of the seasons to itself.
and perhaps that gives it all the more reason to carry reminders in its empty socket. there is solace in dropping to the knees before destruction, but the consequences are heavy like a rainbow that has lost its wings.
let it make space, let it sit by your side and dig into your soul. let it sing to you your flaws, and associate them with the doomed decisions made by ones of the past.
only it knows secrets, those that cannot be carried even down the slipperiest of roads. if it chooses to pluck your flowers away, one by one, then let it. if it tells you the stories of the destroyed, then pay attention.
not all good things mean well, like the sun in distress. your own flowers can be poisonous for you, like the time that let's history repeat itself.
#adropofhumanity
