The theme is missing. I have no one to blame. Not even me this time. I could ramble on with vague epithets hidden in languish, loss and love but that would serve no purpose. What’s going to happen is going to happen. There’s no hiding. This is life writ large.
There’s no invective that will calm the coming grief.
There’s no euphoria that will further stir the fated rapture.
I’m about to lose an uncommonly close thread that has ever been tethered to me. And I’m ready to tie a new bond with a pretty pink bow. I have these inner visions of wide open doors, wide open windows, with wind breathing in and out. I’ve never been so happy and so sad at the same time. Forget bipolar. This is uni-polar. The elements have been playing tug of war with me for so long and now it’s coming to climax. Happy and sad are duking it out face-to-face now. No more sorties from afar. No more blindsides. This is inner apocalypse. This is life and death. Literally. The former winking at the door, the latter waving from the window.
I really wish my Grandmom could see me now, even if I can’t see her. I’m going to miss her so much. But it feels as if my heart is being stitched faster than it can rip.
1 comment:
Ohhhh Pk...so glad for you. Isn't it amazing what the taste of love can do to boon us when we need it?;) C. http://journals.aol.com/gdireneoe/thedailies
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