Thought it earlier
to be a fairytale’s trait
yet wonderfully it is
tested once for good:
you do hear the grass
growing
when in silence,
closeness
and given-over presence

I look at your face
Watching your features changing
I beg you to share

After deep observation, it was the old mind that spoke first to the young thinker,
“Why is it that you periodically pardon yourself from this reality in which we harbor?”

The young thinker, entertained with this interposing notice, introduced his perception of this particular act of reservation and detachment. As such an act of consideration, left restrained is a sense of why.

As he does, the young thinker spoke,
“It is upon my fair and conscious decipherment that this reality surely prevails despite my absence. Though my unceremonious naïveté may have coaxed my mind into the notion that the genuine functionality of this existence bids no satisfaction or blossoming in conjunction with my vacancy; I know better than to revel such a thought. From myself, have I withheld the truth of the matter, but no longer shall that be. This pivotal revelation preeminent to reassessing my proper call to reason. Why am I here? May I enduringly unify my will to my why.”

The old mind, bolstered in comprehension and for a moment, rested, understood this why.

be well,
bcb