Skin held firm, against flesh, surrounding rigid bones. In active step, these hands are not empty, steady even in darkness. In stride and embrace, the sun always rises.
Buffering..
Oh-oh, dear love,
Out in the wilderness, echoes, present even in cities– there! s–sl-slithering away! It’s an act of many to cement a disconnect and mask the one mirror louder than beauty. Beaming the cosmos with sky reflected water to pierce the thorny tides between then and there.
Even after years, “Water” in a figurative and literal sense raises emotions around feelings of escapism and incompleteness. I am destined to revisit and listen for clarity, after many failed attempts to doge and skirt around. To seek solace and singularity in the noise. To quench a thirst relieved by drinking from a public water fountain with a lemon slice.
I admire those with a level-headed ability to amplify ideas from pressing desire whilst in the prongs and currents of internal sensations. Left to wait on the winds to pass and adrenaline to settled, for it may then be easier to collect the broken pieces and begin the mending process.
This reminds me of: My favorite mug, which broke only at the handle of all places, a fracture that meant letting go was the better option;
Immediately followed by Kintsugi, the Japanese practice of repairing broken pottery using urushi lacquer, sometimes dusted/mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum to fuse the seams.
A reassignment of value to each piece forms states of separateness and reflects identity gradients on a quality [of precious metal used] and quantity [or lack there of] axis. Sometimes during joinery pieces go missing and replacing parts of ourselves with other foreign elements may serve to additively embrace imperfections. Or reframe circumstances through novelty.
I am transported to periods of my life, where standing anchor for others was crucial, to remain aware of the distant past and nearing future. I am determined to dull the extremes of control with the active present as a guide because to hold someone [even literally] with surety is divine existence.
We aspire for wholeness with bids for connection to widen the room for respect and I believe care is the purest form of love.
I start and reach into resonance,
drawing the target around the arrow,
to expose ivory against flowing crimson,
jagged edges stretching out of bounds.
Unless?
The world is not enough,
hostage to aching energy.
This piece is a reflection of a heart seeking moments of serenity through surfacing emotions while listening to an ambient instrumental album: Drawing The Target Around The Arrow by CEP (Caroline Elizabeth Polachek), and in response to “Write a love letter.”