Concrete Forest
[ 07.15.2020 x 4:25 ]
I sit here in an empty boutique. I’m supposed to be busy at work.. folding.. cleaning.. pretending to care. I’m supposed to be wearing a face mask and rubber gloves. But I do none of these things. I wander the empty isles and get lost within my convoluted mind. In a state of creative illusionary image, the future seems so close.. yet I reach out my fair skinned hands in front of me and I still cannot touch it. I want to be sure I am making the right choices.. with each step bringing me exactly where I am meant to be. I want to know I am becoming the Human Being I am destined to become. But a distant friend once taught me that there is no set path for me that has been already mapped out. Rather I am wandering a universe of forest all my own, and I must forge a new path.. one created by following the thread of deepest inspiration. I wonder if he understood in that moment, how much those words affected me. And how deeply I wanted that whisper of inspiration to be everlasting.. even though it never was meant to be. Yet still after all I have lost, here I reside in the present.. a fire deep inside of my eternal soul still flickers with the hope of future potential. Still aches for just one exhaling breathe from the lips of true love to breathe life back into these softly glowing flames; after decades of rapturous rains.
I stare out the large glass windows as shoppers pass by with their faces covered by masks of every color and fabric. Shopping bags in their hands. We pretend to have an ounce of normalcy in a culture of dystopia. Illusion is the King, the Queen and the entire court. Illusion is the commoner, the beggar and the markets themselves. But not the mountains, the sea or the summer breeze.
And I as stand trapped in the glass foliage of a concrete forest, I can still See. But they cannot feel what I feel, and they cannot see what I can see; as if the masks were covering their eyes and not their mouths.
