“To a certain kind of mind, what is hidden away ceases to exist.”
My mind is not like this. It is a vault, a well, a story. It lives in my memories, in my heartbreak, my happiness, and in you. It surrounds my body and is my body. My mind is my hands and my eyes. Mostly my mind is my ears, but I am changing that.
Lately its been thinking about seasons. In a month, the leaves will fall, the wind will quicken, plans will change. Most people mourn the death that welcomes fall. I’m waiting for what it reveals. When the foliage falls and bitterness comes, I can see forever. Out my back deck, stands tree after tree after tree. Home to the birds, the owls and squirrels, it’s a beautiful homage to fullness.
Soon, the yard will stand vacant, and I will see the horizon. When the temperatures fall, my body will work harder to keep me warm. I will shiver away the cold. I will see forever.
My mind is the one who knows this, my hands listen and I refuse to water my plants. I want to hurry the pace of winter.
Some people think you cannot mourn that which you never had. I have had it all and I have had nothing all together at once.
My mind mourns them both.