Liquid Dreams

With the intention to hurt, they come.

How does one believe in the utterances made by another when it has already been decided beforehand that they are meaningless sounds of speech? Perhaps, there is truth to everything, but perspectives are rarely exchanged and one's unpleasant disposition will always emerge victorious against the sound voice of reason. There, we have insecurity raising its concerns, incessantly.

Acceptance is at first glance an inability to see beyond what is given. Pride says that acceptance must always come last, but must it be this way, for everything? Why can't acceptance be the bold soul that thrives, but the naive child that only follows? If I could do so, either way, I'd end up wounded on a shore of crystallized salt.

Was there a trace of the past in what I saw as the new, a physical embodiment of what was oddly familiar? Threads of my history come undone and weave themselves into an intricate mistake reminiscent of a candle flame that signifies faltering regrets. The essence of spring may be purged through pained fires again, until the water of the Yangtze returns to kiss the very first petal it had forgotten.

If it is impossible to cut through flowing water, then let the maze of my heart be of streams and rivers, that your tongue may not tease out the insanity that sleeps in peace.