It
never ceases to amaze me how when I hang clothes out on the line, I
can make it rain... But oh well, an extra rinse doesn't hurt a thing
when the water is free.
But
whats really on my mind?
Nothing
lasts, everything passes. In all things the words ring, this too
shall pass.
Things
happen during a lifetime. Some bring pain, some end in pain. Some
cause the mind to build defenses like walls.
Walls
have flaws, walls erode over time.
One
day a ray of hope penetrates the walls.
Memories
of happier moments that have fluttered by like hummingbirds through a
lifetime come to mind.
The
mind begins to wonder.
The
emptiness and solitude behind the walls feeds the wonder.
With
lessons taught by past pains we know that to protect ourselves we
should patch those walls. Reinforce them. Give them a fresh coat of
paint.
But
do we?
Should
we?
Doubts
arise. Hope springs. The heart begins to blossom. Joyful thoughts
begin to arise. The mind begins to play with ideas of bright and
happy days. Days of no more loneliness. Days of no more solitude.
Days of having someone to share with.
Those
ideas grow to ideas of a lifetime of joy and happiness.
Just
how much can one being take before they shut down forever? Before the
death of hope is final. Before they've learned to try no more. Before
they have turned into a cold and icy, uncaring piece of rock as hard
as granite.
It's
not hard to make the decision to build those walls. Not hard to say
you can accept the solitude of being alone. Not even hard to find
what you enjoy doing alone and do it.
But
that damned hope. How does one keep out a sneaky thing like hope.
But
when one allows those walls to crumble they surely know there could
be more pain of heartache! More weeks, months and even years of self
loathing and self pity.
Yet
the walls come tumbling down.
New,
yet old, doubts come easily into the mind at the slightest words or
actions. The seasoned brain plays games within itself. Tears that may
not have just cause pour out. The stomach knots, old fears arise.
Worries fed by bad memories of the past send shutters through the
bones.
You
know that should more heartache come from your foolish abandonment of
your walls that you will have no one, no one but yourself to blame!
You
look back at the pile of dust that once was your defenses, your
walls. You ask, which hurts more?
Heartache
from becoming someone in someones past?
Or
the everyday heartache you knew in your solitary hideout behind those
walls filled with loneliness?
Maybe
there are two things that are eternal. Hope and fear.
But
just maybe, possibly, someone will have the eraser that will erase
the fears.
See!
There is that hope again. Seems there is no eraser for that.
But
could it be that once hope is trampled enough even it's roots will
die and wither away?
Could
some fool be close to finding out the answer to that question?
To
late now. The book has been opened, chapters have been read. There is
no way to skip to the ending to see.
Confounded
confusion!
What's
next?
We
shall see.
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