a letting go

I promised myself I wouldn't write and post today, silly me. I want to say it's a beautiful chaos and that I can't know something that isn't yet.

I want to say that one thing lost makes room for something else.

I want to say that this beautiful tumbled down place is just that, beautiful. And it is.

The door to the greenhouse made from scavenged parts with a door that won't close.

The back of an open wood storage shed that ripped off because it's nails or screws were way too short, so now it's laying on the ground blocking a shed door that is now perpetually open.

The garden here with it's fence rotting and falling in.

The grasses growing tall.

I want to say I care, but I don't think I do.

What I do care about has been ripped away and not much else seems to matter.

Not right now as the world slips into madness.

I'm not lost or seeking truth.

I think the tumbled downess of this place seems somehow right.

I understand... loss and letting go seems to be the calling.

Sometimes I feel deeply and I am thankful.

Sometimes I feel nothing and I wonder at it.

It's been a long haul of one insanity after another, endlessly, seemingly informing each other.

I make choices I am happy of and I forgive myself when I fail. Even when no one else can or will.

I wonder at what is being said, is it a whisper 'it's time to go.'

But that pains me, and so I feel a little.

A beautiful horrifying chaos. A letting go, a softening.

The light is flat, the sky filled with clouds.

The breeze is strong, cool and warm in twisting waves.

Let go, let go... a softening.

Breathe and untwist, let go.

And then I notice the white cat in the tall grass. The color of the flowering grass and the wild daisies. It comes here and hangs out near me sometimes, I talk to it gently. And pieces slip into place.