Flowers are never just flowers but it’s hard to take our minds off of the relief that they bring.
Weeds are never just weeds but it’s hard to take our minds off of the disbelief that they bring.
In how their silly little moments and the ones we fall crying into are never really free.
In how the give and take is never quite what we would like it to be.
Or in how ideas of perfect views just happen to come from making wrong turns.
When smiles have been helping to keep pain from making a scene.
When souvenirs land as they do and the balance is off.
In being suspended between happy and unhappy.
In the way that grief is being heard while joy sits out of sight watching.
Because its harder than we think when “being” sticks to everything including us.
In the red of anger that’s hoping to be used more in the name of love.
In the chaos and fear of being the writer and the main character.
In wondering about flowers while being in the diversity of gardens.
In trying to control storms by being happy.
Creating limits in the ache but the colors as well.
Packing feelings with and without the presence of surviving.
Giving and hindering support under a label.
Because being is never just being but it’s hard to take our minds off of the relief it brings.
Because being is never just being but its hard to take our minds off of the disbelief it brings.
How very real feelings sing in the cracks of being weeds.
How very real feelings breath deeply in being flowers.
And how being uses its umbrella with the same intention for rain as it does for sunshine.
But if we know ourselves in the destinations of being then becoming treasures us in the monologue that being cannot keep us indefinitely.
In how we can be red with anger and turn the page to become softly folded into the red that gently paints love.
In the moments that laughter balances a smile just long enough for joy to become the relief that pain experiences.
And in the adventures that never have anything to do with hopes or dreams.
Looking back, its funny how easy it was to muddy artwork, when flowers were just flowers and weeds were just weeds and being was the exhausting side of the trail we kept our eyes on.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
Recent Comments