I keep losing my thoughts to the depths of my mind. All I've got is the
first sentences of thoughts and then only blank spaces, only the
memories of having a thought and then losing them before they could be
put to words. You see, there's a place inside my mind where all the
thoughts are something else completely, something without words, without
form, something translucent and almost nonexistent. And somehow I can not reach that place, for now.
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Somehow I feel already better for so many reasons I can not put to words. But I just can not reach my words. Only sentences and at its best glimpses of what is myriad sentences. Whatever I reach is not complete. And I'm dying to share with you what I feel right now and how I feel like everything is changing or a change is coming towards an end and I'm different, I'm different. If I say 'Look, you don’t change in a flash, it happens gradually. It’s just like the metamorphosis of a butterfly.' does it then make sense to say that I'm different, that a change of a year or perhaps a whole lifetime has come to an end?
And somehow I feel like the only way I can now describe myself and my changing is this:
my caterpillar days are far gone
yet I’m still hiding
inside the comforting walls of my chrysalis
for I am not yet ready
to change into a butterfly
for I have been tucking poetry
inside my walls
to decorate my wings
with the spectrum of
sunsets and sunrises
ocean waves and rain
and morning dew and tears
for I wish
to become a spectrum of colours
to alter from pale pinks and blues
and transparents that glimmer in sunshine
to burgundy and midnight blues
and transparents that glimmer in moonlight
for I wish to become beautiful
so that I can be brave enough to live
but I'm afraid I have not tucked enough poetry
or perhaps I'm afraid of moving on
yet now I feel different
And then this:
I feel different. Different from yesterday, different from every single
day before this day. Today everything has felt different. The air I have
respired through my lungs, the girl who endures to lead a separate life
in my reflection, the melancholy still shadows of a cloudy winter day -
oh, even the surface of my skin and the beat of my heart!
This is all I can offer, glimpses of thoughts. Oh but I wish you could discover what I feel in between the lines.
