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They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Maybe it’s true, maybe it isn’t. 

But it’s true there are some that all you can see is the fractured glass on the verge of shattering. 

Looking into their eyes, you see what cannot fully be given a voice: fear, anxiety, pain, sadness…and so much more. 

You may not know the cause of each, but a part of you, the darker part of you responds to it. Like recognizes like. 

These people appear to fascinate those around them even as they scare them. For many of them are still a kaleidoscope of color more beautiful than words.

They burst with feeling and passion and fight every day whether seen or unseen to live in the moment. To ignore themselves for the sake of others and to survive. 

It’s almost a dance between two parts of a whole person. The side that longs to give in and shut down. And the side that pushes to succeed and thrive. 

And each time the pressure intensifies they feel as if they will break or they cannot sustain any more damage. 

But the cracks fill up with light and color after a time if they allow it. Their strength increases. And they become more:

More beautiful.

More caring. 

More giving. 

More kind. 

More than any mere words could ever describe. They are simply more than the most vivid imagination could picture or what any mother dreams for her child. 

They are a survivor. And you may think what do they have to survive? Their life doesn’t seem that difficult. But everyone has their demons and everyone has suffered loss in some form. 

Some more than others this is true. And each loss, whatever it may be, shapes a person. Their character, their personality, their ability to give and receive love. And they are more because of it. 

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Garden of Thought

Chaos controls the heart,
But order guides the mind.
The heart embraces what it feels,
The mind rejects what it doesn’t understand.
The heart is only as free as the mind allows,
But your mind is only as open as your heart can take.
The two are infinitely intertwined. One cannot function at its best without the other.
And so it is for me with you even when you are not near.
Everything is clear when I am in your presence. When you take a walk across the garden in my mind. Your feet forging a new path made just for you.
When you brush your callused fingers against my petals, stirring my thoughts and passions. Plucking the weeds left cluttered by the world and the past.
Planting new seeds in their place, so that you may continue to hoard the flowers you love best and watching over those that struggle to grow.
Even when you are far away. I can feel the phantom brush of fingers. Your head as it laid in the grass. You stared up at the thoughts and ideas that created a vivid sky unlike any other.
I could hear your voice wandering over it all. So I tentatively plucked a few of my flowers that I’d planted just for you. Gathering some seeds. And I took a walk across the bridge.
I brushed my fingers over the stone and knocked on the door to your garden and asked if I may come in. To share a few flowers that I’d made just for you…
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Isn’t Real…Part 2

They cannot know the way it feels.
They assume you are disconnected.
That you are numb and have no feelings towards the outside world.

If only…if only I didn’t feel so much.
If only I was more disconnected.
If only at times I was numb rather then just blocking it out.

Instead I deal with words that slice my soul to shreds. That send my mind reeling so fast I cannot scramble up the muddy slope fast enough to withstand it.

Instead I try and retreat into myself, to regroup. To hold off the tears, to lessen the pressure, to avoid another night of pain.

But it isn’t in my nature to run. However ironic it may be that a broken person stands against a wave. That they can let the wave wash over them again and again, still managing to survive.

This is not because I cannot face these issues. It’s because I understand. I understand that those who send the wave are often themselves broken in some way.

That they have not yet learned how to handle this aspect of themselves. They have not learned to let the waves of life, big or small wash over them and still stand.

To push through each fall, no matter how much you have to gasp for breath after it is over. That being broken for a time does not make you weak and it does not mean you will always be broken.

But rather to remember that waves will always come, they will always crash, and you will always be left in the bright, soothing, dawn after the tide rolls out.

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Isn’t Real…Part 1

Eyes that bleed silver trails,
Down cheeks flushed high in thought.
Or pale in misery.

Mouth open in a silent scream,
The agony to great to give voice to.
Except when in your head.

Ears ringing like a jackhammer,
But all sound is at once loud and aggressive.
Yet muffled and distant.

Body shaking softly and you can’t decide,
To be still or try and rock the pain away.

Skin feels tight as if stretched thin,
The smallest touch making you jump.
Ready to fight or flee.

The organs inside you appear to have lost all function. Do your lungs still hold air? Is your heart still beating?

Seconds, minutes, hours.
Maybe even days may have passed.
It has no meaning in this state.

Until your mind realizes it is no longer in danger as it thought and gives way to your heart and body again.

This, this is why they cannot know…

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Tears of the Lost

Their tears filled the earth beneath their knees. Tears shed for so many reasons they’d all but lost track.

Tears of loss, of unrequited love, of pain and suffering, of fear, the anxiety and inability to breathe that came with them all.

They were all but numb from it. They’d cried so many tears in their life, there couldn’t possibly be any left…Not even when tears were needed. When they ached so much it was a physical pain and the tears wouldn’t come.

It was almost as if they had become accustomed to it, until they broke again. The smallest thing would shatter them then. When they longed to feel the numbness again to block out the pain.

But still they watered the earth with their tears. This did not go unnoticed. In response they were given rainbows after the dark storms. Flowers blooming in spring after the most barren of winters. Dewdrops resting on petals that had survived if a little worse for wear.

The earth had a balance to it. There is always darkness and pain. But even the tears and suffering can give birth to new life when least expected. If one remembers to face the darkness for what it is and what it isn’t….