Throughout our journeys, long conversations are had with the reflections in the mirrors.
Not about the songs that instantly take us back to the yesterdays.
Not about the dreams that we hope to get to.
Not about the losses that can easily be looked up.
Not about the happiness that keeps grabbing our attention.
Not about the thoughts that describe the essence of us without fondness.
Not about the miles of feelings that dig into our hearts.
Not even about what seems to be permanently staring back at us.
But about all of those distractions as they are folded into and out of us, building the places that words drop us off at.
The ones overplaying their part, making moments more important than we have ever been.
Their acts of injustice hosting recurring themes in environments that are still seeking safety.
And their woundedness flickering the lights unapologetically, leaving tomorrow open to darkness.
But then that kind of dialogue is always busy being loud and clear in taking us out of context to justify pressing moments into us every which way it can.
None of which tells us that without emotions, happiness can't actually exist and without thoughts, the understanding that is needed on our pages is devoured.
Nor does it mention that trying to delete any of those parts is simply another form of distraction for stories already distracted to begin with.
There is a reason why weeds grow where our habit hasn't been to know ourselves but if we can wish to have been loved better in those places, then buried within that information is the reality of knowing that we can be.
So, as we fight the exchange of ideas from the mirror, words that have yet to see the light of day are not empty seeds but truth waiting for the nourishment to bloom.
The price of care being absent from the dialogue of our artwork is that it prevents our stepping beyond the echoes of moments being more important than we are.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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