A Poem: Though Subtle, It Whispers.

I sit in my car and listen to songs that once brought me so much pain and I realize that it still remains. It’s not a ringing in my head like a migraine of suffering, but rather, it’s a still small voice. I hear the whisper and realize that I am still healing. I’m not sure how I’m feeling, and I can’t point my finger on where the pain flows, but I do know that I have strings in my ego and it stings to let go and flow where the wind blows.

The universe groans with a pain as my mind can’t grasp itself. I see clouds of cotton candy and sunshine like a sweet fruit. I see the breathe of mother nature sway the trees. I hear the grand opera of the flowers as they bring nature into a surreal climax of birth. I recognize the oneness of my body and the mushrooms. I see the give and take of my body and the pines. We are a symphony of groans- even the rocks are crying out too.

I’m no longer depressed. I’m no longer angry. I’m no longer separate, at least I think I’m not. It’s quite a quest to see how I’m pressed, but with every sunrise I’m dressed with death and I find my true self. I have no need to hide behind a filter for a silly selfie or worry what people will think of me. I am you and you are me. We are both minuscule specks of dust on a speck in the cosmos. Your air is my air. We are all one. My sadness is yours and yours is mine. Our hearts are a cosmic intertwine.

Even though I’ve picked up the pieces, the pain of everything falling apart still remains. Though subtle, it whispers.

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