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The Weight of a Memory

Another writing exercise of setting the timer for five minutes and just let it flow.

It's so HARD not to go back and edit, but the truest you often emerges when filters are not applied.

discontented scribbles

the truth of stories that cannot be traded for popularity;

they'll keep moving along and like the changing moon

will find their place within a dark world that shifts

you also long to touch the Night

but its shadows halt your reach

I have left my footprints within the forest -

the heart may feel lost but it still knows to follow them home

a distant sea, tho its shores are known

I've been writing so long... moments, memories,

the joy and the tragedy

it always feels like home to me

So I write the words I cannot say

before the moment becomes a memory

too heavy to carry

I suspect there is a lot to unpack there.

Maybe one day such ramblings will become a unified and complete thing.

A bigger story.

Maybe they are just a collection of stories I'll never tell.

And the secret is to learn to live with both.

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