Where principals crumble and stars endure
I melt down before each passing season
and every chamber of neglect,
arming familiar fields forgotten
the earth beneath these stoic principles captivate all
but the stars keep marchin' on
I wrote this poem on Nov. 24 2023. It is just today that I’m able to reflect on the deeper meaning of the words.
Every time the seasons shift, something in me unravels.
It’s not loud,not a storm or a shatter, more like a quiet melting.
Like snow that doesn’t fight the sun.
I feel it coming before the leaves even turn.
A soft ache. A loosening.
And suddenly, I’m not who I was a moment ago.
There are parts of me I’ve neglected… rooms I haven’t entered in years.
But they don’t stay silent.
They arm themselves with memories,
with things I thought I’d buried deep beneath
the surface of who I’ve become.
Old fields, once dear to me, come back in fragments;
and I can’t tell if they’re warning me, or asking to be remembered.
I try to hold myself together with principles..
the kind that make me look steady, composed.
But under all that stillness,
there’s something more honest:
the raw, pulsing earth of me.
It wants to breathe. It wants to break through.
And through it all,
through my quiet dissolving,
through the chaos I carry in silence
the stars keep marching on.
Unafraid. Unchanging.
As if the sky doesn’t notice what’s happening down here.
Or maybe it does, and just keeps going anyway.
Somehow, that’s the hardest part.
The way the world continues.
The way time keeps walking,
even when I can barely stand.
Until, whenever 🐦⬛