The sudden summer storm outside feels like it's trying to tell me something.
Like something is about to happen.
The book I am reading is one of the best I've read in years, and I'm thinking and feeling in poetry.
When he comes home from work, he looks at me in a way that makes me feel he really sees me.
Sees into me. More so than he has in awhile.
It's been a busy time, and now I've been seen.
"My heart is going to crack wide open" I think.
It's almost too much. My eyes fill with tears. I pull away.
Later there is a moment nearly silent, except for the storm where slightly suspended,
I feel myself expand into one with everything,
And I breath in sync with all that is.
Fleetingly tapped into truth.
As we're falling asleep, I think about different versions of us that no longer exist.
How do we say goodbye? How do we make peace we'll never know them again?
How soon this version of us will no longer exist.
We're constantly looking back on
"the best days of our lives."
People live in a state of perpetual perfection, yet we're always wanting something different.
