Trying the weather. Waiting for it to strike. To have love as a saturated topic. To need a message, as it stands, perceived through whim. Not fair. Some elements seem apparent. They might glisten to senses—might seem palpable. I needn’t speak to fair oceans, benthic seas, petroglyphs and caves. In respects to irony, a soul sits in silence, calculating, trying to bypass injury, looking at what she loves—a deeper confliction, trying to outwit inclination, trying to ignore rupturing. I needn’t speak to spatial challenges, familiar spirits, spritely acrobatics. Deepness of arts, a slew of debris, such displays of mastery—it comes by cultivation, not by a given soul. If I stutter in her presence, the overwhelmed element inside was affected by her presence. If I stutter deliberately, it wasn’t moved by the other soul. It’s not fair—one acquires a skillset, one utilizes those tools, and one says, it comes naturally, how do I put faith in it, when does it petter out? Another unfair question; essentially, one is asking for what humans cannot give: certainty.
Have joy in each experience, lean into flying. To bilk in part is to live; to succumb to it might ache in return. One is with sakuras, cherries, another has apricots, water lilies—to have existence, to rhythm gracefully, to know for spirits; as to cause calamity, to break skies, to uproot earth. Such melodramatic charms, such as we never discuss, when life is haywire, a need for kinsman ship. A familiar ground. A child’s eyes. To have closeness with a friend. Such acute radiance. Such tugging feelings. To love out of necessity—to undress insecurities—that dungeon deep second—to release life and passion, seldom to forget trespasses, aloft once again. We speak of a bed neighbor.
It remains unfair, and it always will be. In building a threefold cord, it isn’t easily breakable. Nevertheless, what do souls desire? We might speculate; we might trouble ourselves. To live a certain reality—often compels behavior, often it speaks its language. We speak to mourning and living—to surrendering and taking action; we speak to rationality—or a deficit thereof—those times thrown to chance—
