it’s never easy

Blurred images of a long lost dream crawl their way back into the corners of my eyes. A distant sound of birds singing, sun rising, water streaming down the current of last night’s thoughts wakes me up. As I slowly open my eyelashes, the bittersweet flavor of dreams is stirred with the tangibleness of reality. It’s a tangled mess of golden chains and silver linings.

All is quiet, all is peaceful, all is. Simply.

As I go about my morning, I notice how stillness permeates everything.  As I clothe, the perfume of my cream falls captive in the intertwined fabric of my blouse, leaving an invisible mark on my nude skin. And I start wondering. What if our skin is filled with temporary imprints we cannot even see? They say our skin cells replace themselves every 35 days. It means that the memory of that light touch, of another’s body beneath your fingers, of a bruised knee against the wall, of  a fallen leaf between your palms, is exactly that: a memory. Just that. Imagine what it would mean for us if we could regenerate our hearts like we do our skin. Imagine what impact it would have on the world if every month or so we could perceive the same routines, same issues, same people in our lives under a peculiar and newer and brighter and more loving light. Would we approach things in a different manner? Would we detect unusual habits in our lives and actually play an active role in making a difference? Would we look at the golden sunbeams from a terrifying comforting place with a magic eye?

Because the truth is that we think we have so much time left to spare that we end up taking for granted most of our surroundings in these precious, short lives of ours.

If we wish for things to be different, we must first feel them differently. We must first feel the regeneration under our skin, transforming itself into a distinct version of ourselves. Whether it be more beautiful or more terrifying, you decide. But things are only wonderful if you love them.

If I love them.



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