Why is it that humans make the unconscious decision to find constant reminders of those who once were and now no longer are, or moments in time when the heart was young and the mind was healthy, rather than elaborately visiting with those who persist in their present or bonds that may or may not be born in time ahead?
I consciously choose to ponder my stranger – Note how I daringly called her mine, hilarious – For she is the highlight of my cold winter night; She is the holy sinner, her past darkened clouds cloud her judgements and blind her.
Born free, she is fading slowly but surely in her present incarceration, the one she had no choice in existing in, where the jailors are ironically the Gods of the household, or what she used to perceive as ‘Home’.
Helplessness is what I morbidly feel towards her alongside my conflicted affection, for her tongue is bound by demons created by others, by the one who stabbed at the heart, by the ones who once have taken the conscious decision to give a new youngling to the world, and the world that engulfs her every morning, demons hidden from my eyes but vivid and lively in her head indeed. Hence her silence that speaks words aplenty and her foreign language that I’m desperately praying and trying to comprehend for its melodies to my ears.
Tiresome, her existence might be and troublesome is my lack of proper understanding, yet, as weary and lost I am as a beholder and as confined and morose she is as a beautiful prisoner of the mind the alleged home, I adore her with the simplicity of those 3 miniature words, and the halo of righteousness that faintly surrounds her is the brightness of a warm summer sky.
Will the summertime ever follow the long cold winter? I wonder.