Words of validation pour out in the form of “I love you’s” and hugs.
The feeling is tremendous.
Yet the shadow of reality waits in the background, knowing that it will get its chance to shine.
Actions muddle the words that were once so easily spoken, like mint leaves in a tall mojito,
and the truth, like alcohol, burns going down.
Alone again to face the bright sterile light, a little beacon’s mind wonders, where are the large giants that swore to be shields? Like a baby elephant is protected by the herd, the young, left unattended or under-attended can get attached to the deception of a lie…
The inside voices that snake and sneak back to the forefront prevent the trumpet from being sounded; the call to arms from being alarmed and the village slumbers while a hut silently burns.
And the neighbors, commanded to stay put, choke on smoke and silently die.
What is a village to do?
What should the village do, when one decides to suffer in isolation?
The village suffers too. A scorned laugh plays from the belly of an unrested soul. But how does the facade get changed except by it being challenged? If one only believes what one thinks, then there is no opportunity for what’s possible to become what’s actual.