Sitting on the edge of a fertile valley. Trees push uphill in the distance, hands on each other’s backs like a trail of army ants: Brotherhood of Green. Smoke fills the vale from unknown sources. Little lights open their eyes blinking on, as dusk descends upon the highlands.
I wanted to speak with you, but I’m not sure how because I don’t know who you are.
You don’t?
No. I used to think I did. But that wasn’t really you, was it?
No.
Another ghost?
Life lived in limbo — what’s the opposite?
Not stopping. Not getting hung up.
Not falling victim to a mind that gets stuck on any one issue, as this getting stuck is fatal.
How could it not be when time itself is the lifeblood of life, itself.
If you’re reading this, the answer is Yes.
Followed by I Know.
And this is why, I haven’t done so.
I have seen the barrier, but only a glimpse.
The glimpse struck me deeply, but the knowing withdrew.
I’ll tell you like it is and I won’t hold back.
The problem is that you desire to control and to image-pad and to prevent nature from showing its true teeth.
You desire to not be who and where you are as you are.
I don’t need hope.
Why would I regulate what I can have now to hope?
Maybe it’s because I haven’t considered what I have now as much as I should have.
To drop into a senseless void to make sense of it all.
Back in my own boots.
Not looking is what allows me to see.
No more getting twisted up in the roots.
No more trying to create waves when there’s no wind.
Either it’s captured, or it dies.
Once it’s gone, it’s gone.
It’s been a while. Stay a while.
Let me tell you about the daggers hanging, handles spinning; blades heavy, and ready to fall.
I knew they were there. I could hear them calling me.
“Don’t look up,” I thought.
I fear you’ll be lost forever.
I fear we’ll never get that magic back.
I fear that time is running out.
I fear feeling like we had our masterpiece stolen from us.
I fear we’ll never have another chance.
Things come to me and it’s impossible to manage them all.
Every time I think something is important, and that I must “file it away” — hours later, it’s gone with the wind — just to leave me alone in the desert, once again.