Vespers in gloaming light

Time slip

I have these moments, you see, where it doesn’t make any sense. And I’m retracing my steps backwards to find out when it stopped feeling like me. 
I can’t trace them back far enough, I guess that’s the thing about growing. 
You can’t go backwards, unlearn the lessons or stitch up the hurt places in a way where there is no scar. 
You just have to feel ok being a little banged up, backwards and forwards. 
No battle worn saint or general would tell you any different. 
Quarry stones are crushed to make houses and the houses stand for hundreds of years. 
Surviving floods and fights, heat, lightening and human progress. 
Why should your heart, full of all of the universes greatest design and laid vulnerable as a daisy is spring, be any different? 
Just because it’s crackable doesn’t mean it’s not strong. It’s strong because it’s delicate. 
Oh boy, oh boy. What a conundrum.

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