And in time you will see them.
As little droplets of unrequited passion,
Given to merciful hands
That excise all relation to thought.
In this moment
Allow your truth to reveal its scars;
Let them dry and close up.
Let them cry at will.
Let them stare back at you
Until you are moved
There is no wind here to carry you.
There are no shadows to cajole you.
Run, then sleep.
If you awaken early, run again.
Forget your futures.
Burrow jagged paths
That radiate from those barren pastures
Where your heart used to be.
Face them on all sides
And explore each
With diligence and abandon.
In time you will be startled by a whisper.
They will have remembered your name.
And you will look back,
And you will see them.
Art: “Woodland with Coppice” (Brushwood)
Vincent van Gogh