“Maybe I’m your home”, she launched, unaware of the earthquake. My world shook, as I followed the evidence in miliseconds, resolving into a serenity I’d never heard of. Peace, deep-seated, attaching itself to my very roots.
I’ve begun feeling more like myself. Therapy does that to you, I conjecture, but so would love. Not in a manner of salvation, it’s just that she amplifies the signal. I was all noise, all confusion. In a flash she was there, on an uneventful day leading to a night promising to change my life forever. What a sparkle… She lit up an entire street in the way she smiled, graciously masking her anxiety, while my nonchalant self fell deeper into its awkward creation. If that wasn’t love at first sight, then it becomes inconceivable that it could exist.
More myself, more signal, less noise, with momentary static that no longer pounces with the same strength. After a year of shade, I allow the sun in, piercing veils that no longer serve their purpose.
ar·ri·val | əˈrīvəl |
As chaos fell to the light, so order emerged to conjure a self I had forgotten for nigh a year. Crying my heart out during ‘Journey’, the Nadir made feel gloriously alone, isolated from bone and flesh.
nas·cent | ˈnāsənt, ˈnasənt |
I’ve invited devastation, the general-major to an army of broken selves, shards of a fallen convergence. Wait, I know this one!
con·flu·ence | ˈkänˌflo͞oəns |
First. Second. Third. Fourth. Fifth. Final.
‘Final Confluence’. On my knees, I atone, repenting this declaration of war. Fear inoculated, invincible, a tempest on the rise. Control your delusions, not insane, never striking in a manner of a stochastic process, always defined, never null. Immunity, long overdue.
Integrated, I coalesce. A self, emergent.
“Maybe I’m your home”. Not maybe, we decode illusions in pursuit of clarity. You’re home, my bones say, now aware of the earthquake.
Peace, deep-seated, attaching itself to my very roots.
My dearest, I’m home.
I have arrived.