How gently the moon sing, how gently the river hum. When all else goes quiet and I sit in my skin I hear its little shiver. And it's only here, by the bank where the overwhelm forget which door to enter, loneliness makes a wrong turn and the fear of missing out becomes a wayfinder that I shake the urgency and fall into the current. I've lost myself more times than I can count. I've lost my voice, my will and my way, especially to those I trust. I give them my decision to make, my thought to process and my way to find, only to in stillness hear that I am sovereign as my own queendom. But I honor the path. The seeking. For it is only through there I can see how comfort is an illusion, true strenght is gentle, time is a tool, correction is self-imposed assumption, trust is a wooden boat tossed in a river, it is what it is, speaking does not mean knowing, silence does not mean conquest, connection is rare, asking is proof of presence, belonging is our true achievement, we are here for our own experience, self-respect trigger conflict sometimes and if you seek you also have to find. As water ran over my face I felt myself wish that I would've had some self-decency and told more people to fuck off. Especially those with something to loose and especially those trying to keep the peace in a room on fire. Always listen to the one with nothing to loose, those who see the process behind the stage and who reign themselves in before they enter a room.
