Listen: the sound of cool breeze and swift cars pass. These days grow new and eschew old in streams to an ocean of memory await. A long time has past since we fought, then we knew nought what it was. There was a boy long ago who constantly did, never ceasing; he would argue and attempt persuasion to an argument fraught with nought the meagre void for which they were. It seemed clear that none was the wiser, but he still persisted. Could we have been mistaken he was a fool? Well, I’m not sure; but he was thinking ahead, but now he’s shut in the bowels of a decreased mind in ware resolve.

So, we went to the river and looked ahead, and I saw him drooping with a head low down. It seemed like nothing at first. Though a single expression he showed, it was the rest he sowed. The rest was what I wanted to hear. He could not begin to express them, as he was in such a state that he knew not his real self. He knew not who he was or the very element of such an existence. I would say he’s neurotic, but that is enough pejorative than he could muster and solely accept. Bring him here, along the banks. A slow walk to the river, but there were toadstools and a sort of retreat from everything. It was peaceful here. Somehow, I thought he’d be himself. Let him wait. Let him move on. Close your eyes; breathe; become yourself.

Talking to himself he was, I knew it; he would. That’s who he is. No one could truly understand him, but that’s why we love him. He’s a mystery in some ways because he expresses so much without his expressing such himself. A man in a dark cave would see all in the light but not himself, and those exiled from whence could not see the man he is, but hear only faint words and a gasp for breath through each vowel ushered in the fold that cracks the tree.

Whether these troubles ill or will, nor the solutions apt or sapped, the leaves shall still grow again the next spring, once the cold is spent; the ice is thawed. Now, give a bird her nest and let us be free; leave your problems there: four-score a threat is that which resides within. So dark is this come mind; see the light, now breathe it out so I can at least get some rest!

“I tried, but I can’t.” He claims. “It would not be the same without me. I try to be good, but it doesn’t work out good. I fail in everything and I try to succeed in hopes of compensation.” But this compensation, for what? You are whole, and need not compensate for your losses for there was never no loss to begin with! “Now, I see. There’s a loss in your logic, but now I exceed your bounds of reasoning with my flaws in prose and rhyme”. Not not could it be his wits, then let it sing through this, nor walk through river to swim, now leave that so grim-

“Perhaps. But I’m not ready.”

A trip to all those who know, and being with new folk will make a difference. Open yourself as you did a child and let the good change you. The bad have changed you at that age to grow you a man as you are now; but it doesn’t have to be that way. Do not let them win. You are better than that.

“Perhaps; but I don’t know what I want.”

You want to be yourself again. You’ve succeeded. You are yourself here. Now, with every step you walk from here shall you plant a seed that shows who you are, where you are and when you are.

Category:
man, Prose, Works
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