Some Times

Sometimes in the early morning I’ll wake up. I won’t get up, but just lie there with my eyes open and watch as thoughts pass by the inside of my eyes. Sometimes they float and sometimes they fly. The early morning is a grey time when colors are subdued, they don’t get in the way of the world, they don’t cover up the truth, the reality. They accentuate the world in a way that is blinding. The morning gets its time to live if just a little. It lives and stretches its wings and we lay in our beds or sit in our chairs and think.

Different places have different things to say. Listening takes time and patience. Sometimes I think that some places are shy, they don’t want to interrupt, they don’t want to get in the way and they have to be coerced, coaxed lightly. Be gentle with new places no matter where they are, no matter what they are. They don’t always have a choice. There’s those places that are talkative. They talk about nothing and go on about everything. We all know the type. We all know that they are nervous inside, they are afraid. We just don’t know what. Other places are those quiet places, sometimes out in the open and sometimes in the corners of our eyes as we pass by.

There was an old tree the other day and it had a palm tree growing out of its trunk. A big one. I felt it was lonely, standing in a field. I walked up to it and lay my hand on it. The vines had grown alongside and it had shoots coming up around it. It knew that it was a thing of the past, a thing that had once stood among many. But now it stood and held a palm tree in between its limbs. Sometimes such things just seem normal. There is no explanation. It’s just how things are and there is nothing else to do.

I saw the sadness in her eyes as she left. She wanted something and didn’t know what. She wanted to stay, but she had to go. Sometimes we just have to let time pass and look out the window as the world passes us by. We get what we want just to find out that it is not what we wanted in the first place. Then, we are back to zero. The bags packed we pretended like it was nothing.

But sometimes we know.