The atmosphere is changing, not unlike a human being..
These days of late seem to ease into a sigh; as if the summer is dying, gently fading, into a slumber never to be seen again. Autumn is waiting for its rebirth, and stirring subtly in its cool undertones in the heat of the sun.
Today I rise to another time-line, yet another frame of time struggling with my frame of mind that articulates antitheses to the rest of other things to concern itself with.
Words form upon the lips strange to myself, yet familiar, as living has turned into simply breathing for the moment; grasping upon truth as we all do, and like the rest of us, deceit as well...
The encompassing silence always lay intact, except at the thrums of a sonata… or when my own clumsiness should break it; when the record stops the shattered pieces waste no time reforming themselves into the immaculate void once again; Its sovereignty is maintained.
A glass of wine, the stillness resounds…the beautiful mysteries are never fathomed and therefore that is why they are beautiful. Awaking everyday to a grayness sparked by color on the canvas, the canvas that is life, we paint only what we want to see. And what the eyes color are indeed lovely to oneself and one alone, and no one else.
The scent of lavender and sage comes in waves, diving perception into the reflective pools of what I used to know. I don’t remember now, but the ripples bring remnants at times of those moments tasted: interrupting the present’s flow for a few seconds of brief interruption, brief darkness and brief sanctuary.
But sanctuary is relative; perhaps the paradise is simply feign?
It seems that these observations can only work themselves out in dreams, anymore.
And yet, I can’t help but wonder…
and glance o'er the things I've known all along.
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