fears.
your roses fly away under timely stealth.
a creature lives amidst your mind. it is the friendliest of foes, the stingiest of friends. it knocks on your door and flees into the wind.
you walk freely in wilderness. subtle movements chill your inner heat. it feels like you are flying.
hanging your hands over a lake, tossing stones as your thoughts ripple astray. self-reformation is upon you.
hanging your hands over a lake, palms laying under a canopy of petals once a part of a bigger form. beds of roses surround you prancing in gardens by the water as their aroma caresses you from behind.
the petals tickle your fingertips as you relive the moment of slowly removing each from the stem. it was the start. the first alluring step.
but it is these small steps that hold the greatest capacity to pull us back to where we first started. they hold immense strength, yet an innuendo of fear that can so effortlessly drive us away from the change we need and feed into the comfort of our past.
such anxious trembles are left calmly for dreamland, but what is shoved away into your soul will not get lost into escape. your petals will not vanish to dust, they will come to fall deeper as you fall in your sleep.
the feeling of falling in your sleep—the many times we feel this fright, though never live to feel the finished fall.
it is so suddenly spine-chilling, yet so misleading. when you wake, you are okay. your mind still wanders, your eyes still flutter, your legs still move. it is so illusionary. your fears are all so illusionary.
in light you lead yourself into this darkness, but in shadows you surround yourself with the sun.
you throw one petal into the water.
in wisps of wind you fall into the sky, though in flight you nurse yourself to the rhythm of a cloud’s heartbeat.
you throw another petal.
on fearful quests you hold your roses. in due time, you hold them closer in illusionary fear. in end time, you pluck the petals, and soon
you set them all free.
–pd.