EPIPHANATIC

If ever you were in the vicinity of a loner, you might believe there is tranquillity in solitude, but if ever you were a loner, you know solitude is an escape from the pandemonium in a world that never could hear you screaming.

These are the years that have come at me from nowhere, from nothing, before I was ready. Before I knew how to give as good as I get. They have come in a rush, a whirlwind, joy dressed as hardship, happiness cloaked in sorrow, sunshine overflowing in my cupped palms. These years have come as a trial, a lesson, a fire lit within me that cannot be diminished, a beautiful dream and the will to see it through. I am thankful for these years, to be humbled by them, to let them do what they will, and I count my blessings day by day, count the years that follow, knowing I will make them mine.

But the memories well up like springwater, faster than I can hold them back. They do not come as words, but like dreams, rising as scent from the rain-wet earth.