I was moving through time as if I didn't exist

While space reminded me of the record I am

Grabbing me tightly, dancing me backwards

Into lights and darks

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For all the people who are on the night train alone thinking about the beauty of the world - lonesome reflection

For all the flowers that bloom after long winters

For all the unsung heroes who were once villains

For all the mistiest of souls who were once lost but now found

For all the bloodshot nights and days that go untouched by love

For all the cowards that will brave the fear

For all the boys and girls without a father figure, and a mom's

For all those addicted to those betraying kinds of love and beauty and who don't yield in to anymore

For all the momentum poets understand and lose

For all those people who will find love and for those who won't

For all those that struggle with forgiveness and want to steer clear of hurt

For all those that fail to creep into the cosiest of don'ts and do's

For all those that risk their lives to gain eternity

For the eternal, sacred time component orbiting around historical time

For all the love left untouched, spread on the crumbs of humanity and the failure of a promise

For all those unspread layers of niceties that hold true to a direct approach

For all the dappled sunlight that shines through trees in late afternoons while squirrels are playing and woodpeckers are hammering on

For all those slow trains that travel through the gorge through tunnels carved in stone, sort of time tunnels stuck as in a time capsule revealing bits of wonders - leaves and berries you could touch out of the train windows

To your soul window that opens into other shut windows, soul windows, and does not care to shut but stays open

For the small towns, seemingly innocent and pure, when no soul is there to be seen in the early hours of the morning. Then, as the day is progressing, the town would eat away at its light while the dark would still dig the light out - rocks of the solid foundation

Photo: Personal Archive

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I was asked if I missed or healed from missing my mom

First of all, she is not dead in the sense most of us understand death

Second of all, you cannot escape the most human example of being a human:

miss, love, miss, miss love - to the extent of not coming across it.

It's very human to be able to miss the one person that gave you life and light and love and would love unconditionally, the best she could in the ways she knew.

I feel I have not yet consumed the bereavement

or allowed myself to fall into the sentimentality of it all

I have been too busy taking over

I gave the only possible answer at that time:

'I'm filled with so many voids that I don't feel any, or anything'

I felt once again the loneliness of not having the right people next to me

I felt sick and tired of people complaining of their fearful and unimaginative ways of living

that sometimes reflected mine

I felt emptied of love and sense and purpose, maybe because of myself spreading too thin

on the people that did not reciprocate

or were just uncapable of love and loving

It's not about you I've kept telling myself

Make it about others - the love, not the lack of it

However, I could but turn to myself when I had given myself too many times to the wrong people and almost never had the right ones who would stay, just stay and be a part of my life

I didn't want to use metaphors for this -

After all, it's a confession

of someone, apparently, selfish, thinking too much of herself, and way too often these days

Photo: Personal archive

Note: The sound of the river is real, and, hopefully not disturbing

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