#255 The method to your madness

Before I learned not to listen
I would stand
seemingly still
but secretly swaying
swallowed up by a willow tree
and its play with the wind

Before I learned not to listen
I would hold my head against the rind
reach
reconnect with an old friend
the way it has always felt best
cheek pressed to chest

Before I learned not to listen
a breeze in the leaves
rustling ruminating
would sound like raindrops in my ears
making my eyes answer
with a torrent of tears

Before I learned not to listen
a rolling thunder
thumping like a beating heart
would rumble from my cheek to my ear
replacing my fear
with a memory I used to held dear
we were never really apart

Before I learned not to listen
before the lust for language
reduced what I could see
and sense within
I would allow the whispers of the wordless world
speak to me like kin

Before I learned not to listen
I would accept
that once upon a time
I remembered your name
and once upon a time we both knew
we were one and all the same

Lukas Van Vyve