Notes and Wildflowers 

John Felsing

I walk the dusty roads, the air has this chill, this spice and this intangible love all around me. The old trees bowing, rustling in an old tongue telling me to find as much meaning I can from this world that makes no sense.

The sky is an angry shade of grey, the gods preparing to punish me with stinging cold rain. Is it punishment, if there are pleasures to be had?

I step on the autumn leaves. The green giving way to splendid red and brown. Is it death? or is it beginning? An eternal cycle.

I walk on, smiling to myself while all my little anxieties, fears are tucked somewhere in the back of my mind. Inaccessible at this moment.

Passing a young one, my smile plastered on my face is infectious as it spreads on his face.

I like those flowers which look like white stars in the night. Glowing ethereally. I pick several of those and wound them in my short braid.

I walk on the asphalt road, sun baked and tough. If I stumble and fall it would leave a scar on my knees. Another memory painfully stained on my body forever.

I breathe in loss. I breathe in love. It is one and the same thing, after all. Openly vulnerable at this moment, devoid of facades.

Hoping this never ends, I walk on. Collecting wildflowers I’ll tape everywhere.

My sundress flutters around my legs, clutching flowers, I grin at the angry gods while silent tears leave a trail down my dirty face. Am I out of my mind or this close to following White rabbit down a Rabbit’s hole?

The wind is everywhere, a tumultuous riot until I come back home. I’m raw, giddy, terrified of this feeling bursting inside me. I’m disillusioned yet content and on top of the heavens.

I hope it never ends, I wouldn’t know how to breathe without this
but I am healing,
and breaking
every day.

Until the time decides to stop for me

and I come back home 

14 thoughts on “Notes and Wildflowers 

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