So it has been a very long time since I last wrote something long and driveling and soul excavating on this blathering blog home of mine, dusty, stale boot prints be durned.
Where to begin, little brother? Where to begin?
City people make my heart feel like a desert. First the Beehive Bazaar, and today, the weekend of Heritage (The thief of Memorial.) But today was different in that I spoke to at least two strangers who made me feel human instead of like a hot air balloon. All of the cotton-candy words I spin to keep these seemingly hollow people filled up... but of course, they aren't hollow. How could they actually be hollow? They must be human.
I am so tired and my legs are branches turned upside down. It was good to walk through rain-wet grass and alfalfa by the roadside this evening, it was good to renew my connection to the ground after a day standing and walking and answering questions and peering into unknown eyes.
Still, it was beautiful. Draining, but beautiful. Always beautiful, always an opportunity to learn and grow. Any dissatisfaction I experience would be an extension of my own yearning, my own wanting, my own missing. And, love, I miss so very much.
Where to begin, little brother? Where to begin?
City people make my heart feel like a desert. First the Beehive Bazaar, and today, the weekend of Heritage (The thief of Memorial.) But today was different in that I spoke to at least two strangers who made me feel human instead of like a hot air balloon. All of the cotton-candy words I spin to keep these seemingly hollow people filled up... but of course, they aren't hollow. How could they actually be hollow? They must be human.
I am so tired and my legs are branches turned upside down. It was good to walk through rain-wet grass and alfalfa by the roadside this evening, it was good to renew my connection to the ground after a day standing and walking and answering questions and peering into unknown eyes.
Still, it was beautiful. Draining, but beautiful. Always beautiful, always an opportunity to learn and grow. Any dissatisfaction I experience would be an extension of my own yearning, my own wanting, my own missing. And, love, I miss so very much.
No comments:
Post a Comment