Some people in our mind are just a memory, a memory that we hope will never fade away with the depths of time. At first we hold them in our heart, till they drift down the stream of thought. The streams of thought torrent through the heart, falling into the mind, which loses its power by the day. While we try to hold that person ever tighter, we forget they no longer are here. Though not passed on, it is as though they have, to a soul in despair. What makes the soul despair over the thought of losing this memory? If our soul lives beyond the body, why is it so pained by the thought of losing this memory? Maybe because the soul has a scar, and it fears not knowing where it came from.
The soul identifies itself with that scar because that is a wound that will never fade, and that time will not heal. The despair of the cold wind that travels through the wounded soul makes one shiver at the thought of the pain, that lasts for this life, or perhaps eternity, but sprang from only a moment on this earth. The mind wonders why the heart let this happen, because perhaps if the brain just cared enough this would not have happened to the soul. For the mind loves the idea of the soul, but it can never fully grasp it. The mind will never know what it is like to be the soul, nor will it understand its ways. The soul will languish in pain and ask the mind for relief, but the once colorful memory that the soul requests has faded into grey. So the soul tries to patch the wound with the faded memory, a piece of eternity, sliced from the ages. The memory falls off like an old band aid, worn out from use. The soul cries out in despair, wondering why this has happened.
Featured Art: “Alexander Pushkin’s – Eugene Onegin” by Lidia Timoshenko