There always comes a time in your perfect little world where cracks start to show and leaks somehow become cascades, eventually causing a succession of erratically confused panic that could only be defined by an incredulously delusional sequence of thoughts and actions.
The world turns topsy turvy…
My world turns topsy turvy.
Contentment and sadness no longer in polarity, they seep into one another and become part of each other. Where does one start and where does one end. The questions beggingly implore my pounding heart, head, and sometimes hand. They say the heart wants what it wants. But what does the heart really want?
The truth can sometimes be glaringly bare.
For the heart wants many things. Too often things that seem unable to meet, leaving a trail of tangled knots and imperfect crossroads. So then what does the heart want? It does not choose its path. It only creates more; almost like a butterfly effect that takes pleasure in sending masses into unknowing chaos.
Solidarity calls for attention. Yet heartstrings tug back in fearful confusion.
Like the bright red leaves of autumn, love is only a temporary illusion. They fall and what was once seemingly beautiful, find themselves in a forgotten medley of muddy brown, ash like dissolutions. But memory remains, and like the pull of gravity, one yearns for what was. In hopeful eyes, one always yearns for what was.
It’s a lie.
Everything is a lie.
The past will always hold you back.
And sometimes, that past is of a future hope instead.
Or simply, a fear of losing something precious in your life.
“Hold me in your arms, and tell me everything’s going to be all right.”