It's Okay

When you fully embrace the sand, stare deep into that rigidity you take such hope and love in, that self as vehicle for all scars and triumph --- sometimes it flares, sometimes in the silence, in the well-known reality you’re wellknown no longer. You don’t exist as anything else other than a casket waiting. An apartment to clear for a silent passing. I bury all my ideas & conversation with me.

And I drag my hand along the wooden rail and wait for the unjoined nail to nick and maybe, for a moment, maybe this will be my sigil; as others walk by this is where I’ll aetherly settle and heave the breeze to lift their hair, as the rest of them, as any breeze haunted, before they take the next downcast step. Who wouldn’t work out everything in forest?

Such cloudy eyes. Replaying thousands of memories in a wilted hope that, somehow, it’ll be rewritten. Well, dear wanderer, I have no more stake here. I have no demands for you, for you to do things on my behalf. I’m not trying to get you on my good side for my own projects. No manipulation to impart, as there is nothing to gain, but in such sullenness, so universal, I only want to lift your head. Listen well, if you want.

Forgive. Forgive yourself. However much you’ve fallen, you’ll never be buried. Discarded and irredeemable no more. And however much you’ve lost, you’ll eventually find it whole. I extend my hand to the drug-addicted, the self-hatred, the distraught and seemingly broken. Each worthy an embrace, and how resolutely the heart still beats.

It’s okay. Forgive yourself! You are only learning. Heed each lesson and start climbing up again. Let me see your determination! By your own forgiveness you may find some sprouted wings.

Indeed, by your own forgiveness you may rewrite all of those pesky memories.

As I roam the infinite museums of souls, I wait for your commission. Your giddiness is infectious; perhaps the colors shall capture such a brimming portrait.