THE PATH

When I slept, I was between dreams. I walked on in the splendor of a seemingly beautiful facade of reality. I got to the middle of it, made a stop. Then, came the medieval point of choice. Stay, move, remain, dream on. The voice of cheer in the partition of oblivion, kept my feet-of-drag at pace. I opt to gaze stealthily around my wonder. There you were just like me. You had me wondering, how long had we been navigates to perception, maybe obstruction? How long do we wander on in reverie?

The young mind; fearless and non hesitant. Mostly metamorphosed by the circle of existence, and like dreams, are involuntarily indulged in the happenings of the mind. 

We exist, and we know not why until we're either told, or perhaps choose to exist. The wonders of the world and why I'm here, bewilders my explicable mind. All my days spent in the rigidity of one path. This one path I know leads 'there.' The place of flawless myth, wherein I'm entangled like a suckling infant to its mother. The place that awes my filth, a face of gold, a place beyond lumina.

I oft wonder away in curiosity, but when I do, what then happens?

If you are somewhere just like my very self, then we are on this highroad to rescue. We're together like flocks adored of one shepherd, like flowers being tended by its gardener.

When my Manny walks up to me and says: "You are my mommy, mommy," and brings his cheeks closer for a morning kiss, then I also know I belong to someone more special. When I am treated like a daughter by my earthly father and mother, and corrected for my wrong; when my friend can be crossed at me, not scared to tell my wrong to me, then I know someone special understands deeper. I know I am living. I couldn't just be a pawn on this board. I am made with a ball of affection, most of which depicts humanity. My humanity wrapped around infallible love. 

I once met a woman, who had been stricken with a mild stroke. Flora was a beautiful human being, who had lived well. Told me stories about the love of her life and how they'd traveled the world together. To Flora, children didn't even make her. She just lived and called me her adopted daughter because I enjoyed taking care of her. She told me "Don't let life break you."

The world is at its peak, isn't it now. The simple things of life matter less until our days have been grossly maxed out. Then do we wander back, sitting in rocking chairs, looking back with our optical lenses at the road we once held hands and walked. Some have no hands to hold, maybe pride in being loners at the moment. Perhaps, busy trying to measure up with the days and nights, forgetting that the grays are only a step further. The run of helter-skelter booming aches around the heart. The world now says you are strong by yourself, teaching to build away from the wings of love. Whatever you do, wherever you be, you must stand to live in the midst of clenching thorns. 

I so want my world to be one friend away, far from the worldly taboos and cliches.The fairness of this world beckons, weighing heavily upon my heaps of dream. I must push my feet-of-drag away from 

these fallacious dreams. My path; not so far from its maker, I know to walk right back with clues when I'm stranded.

Live, Love, Laugh

 Kaylove.