To Part the Blades of Moments Passed ...

To part the blades of moments passed, which brush, tingling my receptively warm skin. A mid season's afternoon in a breathless whimsy of breeze gusts and smoky haze. Is that the feeling of belonging? I could hug it tightly forever, knowing that it emanates a deep, lasting pulse from my soul.

Maybe the dark undertones of the grass are where my true feelings hide. Caught in a lapse of remnant fever for a moment that lingers... just out of reach. If I bury myself in those shadows, where they saturate this field, my body tucked in securely and my heart paced with anticipation, then just maybe ...

The white petals ...

They brush against my fingers softly, catching me mid grasp as I try to make a pathway through the semi-blinding light. For a moment, I attempt to face my deep, pure emotions. I am disoriented and afraid, my hands shaking in conflict with the petal's assured graze.

An unknown future lies ahead that tears at my free spirit, challenging it to face a stonewall. I do not feel ready to take any steps towards the unknown right now.

To cherish this moment. These white, soft petals. So white and pure, like gentle heart drops contrasted against my mess of heart and soul. It is such a small, powerful patch, a tint of pure sanity amongst the madness.

The pillars leer at me ahead, supporting tight, wrought iron railings that I wish to keep at a great distance. It's too soon to saturate myself in the world of planned, contained form that stays so true, even as my wild wind gusts with disorientation.

Those shadows, they are luring me, deep underneath those grass blades. An inviting quiet retreat, for just a moment. I can feel my back seeping deeply into the grass, my body turning on its side to stare more closely at the bounty of warm, dappled shadow. The light is deep within, a whole other world of unspoken support.

It is strange, I note, how my eyes are always lured by the larger brightness: drawn towards the next thing that could possibly be waiting for me to venture into. Yet, it is never really fully defined, that next thing, is it? It is nature I trust: it's textures, its presence, its cradle of comfort away from the deeply uncertain.

Right here the solid, dependable shadows remain, allowing that brighter, luring light to shine above. I do not have to meet the gaze of that uncertain light.

The shadows hide the unyielding depths of my own soul, who lingers in the background, at a distance, from the fearful fortress of the future.

Laying within these shadows, I enjoy a momentary escape from the watchful sun. My brain is pierced with holes, unsure which thoughts it should allow to escape, or swell and mean more. For some time now I have been unable to hold onto much, my mind a fog and afloat amongst the abyss of searing light that never seems to relent. Why must we always be so exposed, even when we are still sorting out our deeper selves?

Why must we be ready for a plan of life, especially one that may not even suit us?

It is cooler here in the shadows, my skin breathing and breaking away from the seasonal heat. For a moment, as I sink deeper into the grass, I allow myself to feel my presence, my limbs and to acknowledge the significance of my erratically beating heart.

My short, midnight blue dress clings to my thighs, as though it is holding me in place. Yet, my swirling brownish red curls flicker wildly in the breeze, luring me to rise. Maybe I could shrink myself as tiny as Thumbelina and cruise atop a purple iris flower. My miniature self would be able to see the finer details of right here and now. I could get caught up in a dew drop and take a wondrous natural adventure. I know there is still so much to explore amongst the finer, details of light and fragmentary life.

It is only here, that I have ever really felt a deep sense of belonging. It is not something that I am willing to let go of too easily.

There seems to be a place for everything in this world. If you need to discover who you are, then you must take those uncertain steps and enter that tall, foreboding building that rises three stories high, ahead. It is paradoxical really, as innately, I already know who I am. A soul conflicted with the wrong form, awaiting me to embrace my unknown future.

I am drawn to a more natural form, right here, in the shape, light and texture of nature itself.

I belong in this deep dirt, amongst the rush and swell of growth and cycle. Attuned to my curiosity, I yearn to investigate and to see more than the average eye does. The light, dark and shadows do not hide the truth, they expose it. How can I help it if my rhythms are attuned to the way the light conducts its being?

Taking me away from these natural, innate rhythms will destroy me.

The foreboding pillars creep into my dreams each night, pushing their way into the natural cycles of life, swept up in the madness of a breeze that leaves me tortured and gasping for breath. I awake, panicked and sweating, feeling trapped with a deep, dark crevice that I cannot claw myself out of.

In resistance, I know that I have discovered my direction. It begins right here, in my swallowed shadows, waiting for my heart beat to settle and trust.

It continues, once I allow myself to face my primal being and to allow itself to find comfort in its breath and continuation through this moment, this field and beyond.