Every melancholy moment passes downward through the hands of time.
Every blissful reverie floats like fleece atop the breeze, ever freely upward rising, naturally with ease.
The heavy mind or heavy heart feels the gravity of thought, the weight that pulls apart the knit from the weaver's tapestry, slowly bit by bit.
Such be the resistance, Like sandpaper friction, diligently burns away with Hunger* Eating holes in our Souls.
Imagining our thoughts and feelings passing through us..the warm ones rise us upward, the cold ones sink us down. Learning which ones to hold onto is somewhat akin to learning how to fly.