It was a stone like any other stone except it had a mouth and spoke of pine needles and quantum therapy and about how a few fingers could cross the world if only for eyes to see and a heart to feel It told about how the heavens rained down so hard that the stone’s eyes were worn away and while it admitted it never had fingers, it felt it nearly could have while sadly its soul drifted away, quickly even, then slowly as the rain lessened Eventually the stone lay still with a bit of sun and less self and more thoughts with less sight until it was found by a frog hopping around laughter lit by courage and carried by a young girl wearing a yellow hat She dabbed the stone with a dry towel and said
I agree, and that’s why I drink my thoughts, and not my nothing after. to see a thing is to know to be the thing, unless you are that thing, then things get a bit more about you. Find a bulb and never build on top, build below, and watch. A thing is a non-crawling on your mental wall, with your approval, none-of-which.
Who’s there? Is it seen? Tomorrow woke early. we all sang a song. Blew a bit of a whistle heard ’round. Isn’t a fun think, thing to look through? Window pushed wide, been here a while, watching, now it’s yours again. Tag. You’re it.
I need to talk about what happened.
Fingers typing aren’t always me.
Please though, come.
The floor again is open.
Eyes that shouldn’t be are.
Don’t fade, please not that.
We’ll do the best we can.
One boy saw too much. And the ones around him grew along. Wanting to know how he knew things they did not. A counter called time went on. He couldn’t tell them- It starts in a terrible way. It starts with a question. It starts in a dark bedroom. Without anyone seeing. Or, it starts in a car without anyone around. It starts without sound, then with sound, and then it doesn’t stop. A young boy saw far too much. It didn’t need to be this way. It just was.
We walk into the shadow of death to pull one wounded child from its depths, to find another daft man standing in the corner. Leaves are shuffling outside my window. A man with a golden heart is gone. Another stands in a room looking. Don’t block me. I am here and at least I have my fingers. The man in the room standing, looking daft, asks for silence because silences never questions. Never says a damn word. The girl with the golden brow would have cared for a word. And the boy with the covers pulled tight would have cared for the same.
Please accept that our life has not been easy. Our. The double lipped mouth- Giving permission to be. We don’t ask permission to live. Remember there’s a notch on the door that asks for you. Which void would we like? – A child in their bed watches their bedroom door. Soon foot steps. and light. The child pulls their covers to their faces.