reruns... or not

She had been here before, hadn't she? Then why did it look so different? She couldn't recall any familiar impression, any familiar memory. She didn't even remember how she arrived and left the first time. 

It must not be the same place. It must not be the same place.

But if it was the same place, then the end would be in sight. Yet she didn't want this to end. She wanted to stay. She looked around for a place to sit. 

She could stay here, right? Because it wasn't the same place. It's not the same place. 

The other place was poison. The other place was a lie. The other place held on to her and when it finally spit her out, she tried to run away from everything. 

So where was she now? She hadn't found a place to sit yet. It began to scare her. Because she wanted to stay. She wanted to stay so badly. It wasn't the same place. This couldn't be the same place. 

Everything felt so different. 

unexpectations (the task, II)

The task was complete. It was behind her, just another piece of her history. And before her lied a completely unexpected journey.

In a sense, this had been where she was standing along. She had never really abandoned her initial position in life. Her position of love and peace and happiness. Though sometimes these things were clouded from her sight, they were always there. And here she was, again, realizing this was where she was meant to be. 

In a sense, she always knew that the journey before her was hers. Fate has a way of directing us and confirming our path, of dutifully reminding us our identities and showing us why they are beautiful. 

She didn't really know what to do now, and she didn't need to. The unexpectations of life said it all. 

the task

As she lay there, her eyes fighting against the debt of sleep that had been building for days, the last thing she wanted to do was speak what was on her mind. But speak she must, lest she be trapped forever. There was only freedom on the other side, and there was only one way to move forward.

She looked above her. She allowed her eyes to wander a bit, soaking in the worst possible scenes her imagination could produce. None of it mattered. None of it would change a thing. The reality remained that she must speak. 

Her eyes closed. Her breath let out one last heavy sigh as her body resigned to sleep. To rest. She had resolved to do the task. And to postpone it anymore at this point would only be a punishment to herself. 

your eyes

I look and I drown in your eyes

I try to swim

But the current is too strong

You're eyes have locked me into this death trap

Who are you?

Why do you look at me that way?

And what compels to look back

What keeps me from looking away

I feel my lungs begin to collapse

In a few seconds, i will feel no more

But in these last seconds

I remember your eyes

I remember that look that brought me here

To the end

In my last seconds I remember

I drowned in your eyes

pull back

And this is where she pulls back.

The sky is the only thing with no limit, and she is only human; so now she must pause. 

Her limit has been drawn. She has yet to reach it, but she sees it. Until then she exerts everything, all of her energy must be poured out, for the end is in sight. 

Reciprocation has ceased to matter. Expectations are deemed useless. In pessimism she finds a surprising strength: she won't be disappointed. 

And now she moves forward, the conclusion of the whole matter awarding her with freedom. She hates not knowing what comes next, but she's already come so far without the privilege of that knowledge. So it shall continue to be.

Everything feels subdued and peaceful right now. She doesn't not want to be disturbed. She needs no one to push her forward when she has decided to pull back. 

paralysis

Here she was. At the same fork in the road she had been at years ago. She needed to make a choice.

One road extended into a bleak fog of anger and insecurity. The trees were shriveled and showed no signs of life. Yet the trail continued on, covered in trampled flowers and haunted by the sounds of silence. 

She remembered this route well. She remembered the fight that came to her at the end, the push for independence and freedom and love. She remembered finding it and wishing she had taken a different route. A route without the lies that slowed her down, the ugliness that clawed at her in her dreams. 

The other road was blinding to look at. There was so much light and warmth that inundated the beginning of the trail. She could almost feel all the darkness falling from her, and it hurt.

She stood there. Why did giving up all the anger and resentment hurt? Because she felt powerless. All that light burned her down to a vulnerable nakedness, a place where honesty and truth felt like weapons of hate but were only being wielded by love. 

Her feet felt like led. Progress of paralysis? That was her choice tonight. But she didn't have the heart to make it. 

re-discovery

So familiar, yet everything that kindled this familiarity is lost, gone, missing somehow. After all these years, connections have faded, colors have changed.


Yet familiarity is still there. And this is what I know. What makes me feel safe. What calms my spirit and grants me temporary contentment.


But it's only temporary. 


Here, in this realm of aged familiarity and faded connection, I re-discover myself. I come upon the rubble, the ashes, the cinder of what was once my life. Of what once defined my existence, framed my everyday routine. 


Then one day, like a forest fire sweeping across acres of grass and forest, the flames of transition and change came upon me and ushered me into a new beginning, a new definition of existence, a new framework for the daily rhythm of life. 


From the rubble and ashes and dead stumps, self was re-discovered. Scenery changed, the columns of intelligence and pillars of spirituality shifted. The seasons began a fresh
cycle...


...and here I am now. Re-discovering the landscape that fell victim to one of life's forest fires three years ago. Re-discovering everything that has taken root while I moved on, chased away by the winds and the flames (or drawn, rather), to take root elsewhere. 


It is all so beautiful, and though the shape of my blossom and the bend of my leaves sharply contrast with the native foliage, I am not a stranger.


The re-discovery settles in all around, and I am embraced.