old fragments #2
i sit, worried, listening to lyrics. an attempt to soothe. little simz says, "time will heal you." how odd, i think, because i once wrote a haiku, when brand new here: time will tell, they say. or, in time you will heal. but time does not serve you. i wrote it, but often write things. the question is, do i believe it? i was sad then. am i not sad now? i am. yes, and... not sad like i was some time ago. but yes, i believe it. despite the sadness, in that time, having changed in more than name alone. the grief, as i call it now, was wild once. when i was young and more certain, my grief was the decider. which is to say, my grief called the shots. my grief didn't leave room to assess, run a cost-benefit analysis, or even think more generally. my rational mind was absent, hardly at work, unless you consider the work of wild grief a rationale equivalent to the caliber of my stable and contented mind... i don't. is the work valid? yes. but reasonable or measured? hardly. what is all this grief for, you might ask? what is it that acts as tether to this potential weight? death, i suppose. to put it simply. loss, more broadly. the loss of self. the loss of loves. the loss of our planet and entire species, en masse. the loss of compassion from people and of empathy for things that don't happen directly to loved ones or us (whether complicit in their occurrence by choice or not). you know, perhaps by using time to patch all wounds, we liken ourselves to the concept. perhaps the world is so heavy, that we prefer the indifference of omnipotent measure. perhaps our hearts are opened, but lose the heat of emotionality. perhaps our minds are quieted, but lose the clarity of connection. you see, time isn't concerned with memory, or preference, or truth. you see, time isn't concerned with convenience, or perception, or linearity. you see, time isn't concerned with people, or flora or fauna, or any conception of mother earth gaia terra. you see, time isn't concerned. but i would hate for that to be me.
