a stream of feelings
Finding bones in abandoned houses is the element of brightness. Think of the sun casting its rays visibly through the glass pane warming the wooden creaking floor boards and a single heated bleached bone lay in the center of this warm square of light. The birds are chirping and the breeze is cold and the air is hot and you can feel the wild rabbits scampering by on the warm earth. You feel this in your bones and in the one on the floor. “This is an ancient feeling felt before by some kind of ancestor” is what you hope and also that you can not be the only one to feel this. Others must know this feeling. The sound of children’s laughter fading and noises of carnivals and peepers. You can feel every salamander and pill bug under every log and the heat melting the smoldering tar as the chalk covers its hot black surface. The candy that falls from your mouth and sprouts into the trees you would look back and remember and never forget. You can see no reflection in that pond but only the reflection of life. The life of green trees and tadpoles that gather in the patches of algae along with the tweets of birds and stick ridden wet sand crawling with small insects and you know each one by name. The lunch that was packed for you was time and it was seemingly wasted blissfully. You fed it to the birds and to the fish which provided the life they needed while at the same time sacrificing your own and the only remembering idol left behind is the trees that you once knew by name and the grass you once knew by heart that you must leave for anxious times. Times that are colder than before. Times of change and a beginning of dread and all ignorance and innocence is fallen and lost with our true nature gone forever, the fall of our innocence.