GHOSTING

How quickly I'd grown used to hearing that melodic voice. I just hadn't had enough yet. Not sure that will ever change; Your voice…. so gentle, so playful, strong when it needed to be, and yet, forever forgiving.

What a gift you are to this thrashed world. I just wanted to stand in your shadow and watch,

observe how you tame all that you touch… I could see it

even though we've never met. Who knows if we ever will. That very easily could be our truth. A phantom memory now.

I've learned to be in the moment, ever thirsty for that gratefulness quickly filling up my heart. I will gladly string that gratitude along as much as I'm allowed; nourishment to the parched, I cherish it even more now.

I liken you to walking the shore, dodging the waves. I think the water will be cold, even frigid, bringing a shiver to life; an exclamation without a thought, escaping from my mouth, acknowledging that chill..

So I keep moving to and fro, making it a game, when suddenly that rogue wave appears. I brace myself. Quickly cementing my toes into the sand, so certain it'll be cold… Yet reality can turn like the tide, expectations dashed, it's quite the opposite: Gently sweeping warmth now envelops me. A deep soul sigh escapes, instantly bringing me back to the womb. I stand quietly, living and recording a metamorphosis. My awareness welcomes the sun beating down on my face; opening my heart for those purest of moments, breathing in the beauty… Holding on with all my might.

Just as quickly, the bite of a breeze swirls, shattering that dream. Hands open to the sky, my head now instinctively bows in recognition.

it’s merely a memory, small but so very delicious, thick and flavorful. How lovely. Deeply etched. My soul has been perfectly caressed.

We could have been a sweet little adventure. Nothing more, nothing less, but an adventure nonetheless.

Days later clouds summon. A darkening sky; waves crashing hard against the shore. An icy wind descends. Where it once gripped my heart, then clutched my throat, now it merely tears it's bony fingers through my hair, perfectly ghosting me. I turn to leave….

Everything has it’s cycle. This is most certainly, mine.

Lessons in self love. Forever forgiving.

© black sheep matters 2017