Addressing the observer.
I am not going to submit
to being recognized
or theorized,
but I will slow
here before you
somewhere between
what you see and think,
dressed in a fabric
you dreamed once
––when? about something
you strained to know.
You never knew
it, or me. But I
am here. And
you–––?
A conversation in the interim.
With the tides coming and going, finding the hidden treasure is often a matter of patience.
Which ocean?
This mind, or whatever you call it. There’s something I am trying to recover.
So now what?
Now I wait.
Hmm. It doesn’t look like you are doing anything.
Yeah. But remember those seeds we planted?
I love those trees! It’s amazing how they went from––
Yeah, but before all that, remember? After we planted, it looked like nothing. Root growth always does. But the tree won’t take if it doesn’t happen.
Wait. Is this about the ocean, or tree growth?
I’m mixing metaphors. It’s about learning to wait when you are trying to make a thing happen.
Got it. What’s happening now?
