I always have yet to settle for a verdict on how you become the way you are. The sun, moon, wind, and seasons labored in synchrony to sculpt your existence into how you are today.
Do you befriend others too? What songs do you play, and what waltz do you dance to when tenderness sprouts? How do they stay attached to you? I fantasize that I have only discovered you and have been fortunate to keep you in hiding.
Anyone close to me doesn’t know about you because I cannot articulate you to the world. Language has limitations. Perspectives are always individualistic. Often unknowingly – we only nurture realists. We settle not to dwell on if it is difficult to see, understand, or ponder. Our urgency: move quickly, rush from the present as if our future is guaranteed. It never is; it never was.
When I think about you, though, I am primarily awestricken by your presence. We have been together for so very long! But my uncontrolled mind, however, oscillates between paranoia and bliss. The anxiety is that you would be gone like you have always done and be gone for a long time. Waiting has no value during your absences. If I ever lose you, I need to be more confident about recreating since I am still resolving how I manifested you in my imagination. Hope cradles me and provides assurance that you will not abandon me.
You would return, and I would feel the change in the cadence and style of our conversation. Your anatomy, complexion, and smile would change, the intonation of your voice would be different, and your gait would be slower or faster but never the same. Slowly and admirably, I would slip into ease, comfort, and solace that you only could bring into my psyche. We would again share the same dream in a different light and with different vocabulary in our many silent conversations without the fear of misunderstanding each other. Perhaps this is how heaven would be! Our differences of opinion always find a negotiated island without heartache.
The world leaves us cold and harsh. The laws put constraints on us so to maintain civility. Time dictates our fragility. Seasons control our nourishment. But when I am with you, the laws of physics and mathematics suspend – as if to give us a break. Even if that halt is brief, nothing seems impossible.
Redamancy
Verb; to return someone’s feelings of love. {A conversation with the imaginative “I.”}