The slow erosion begins, not with a sudden crack, but a constant drip, the water wearing stone, until the landscape changes. Out of tolerable abuse, a threshold crossed, not with a bang, but a whisper, a final sigh escaping the tightly held chest. The same measure of it, they say, for every feeling, a reservoir that empties at different rates, who would question What was deteriorating depending on the container. Retaining the need to discuss it for the self of you But you didn't notice the foundation beneath. what's being weakend knowingly not Those too busy with the tolerance level droppingwalls, patching cracks Curing by thy name but over time Not realizing, not feeling the same, that vibrant hue you wore, the easy laughter that once sprang, now muted, a faded photograph. It has burnt out, yes, like a flower weathered dry, left too long beneath a sun it never asked to face. The green edges curled inward, the petals brittle, a silent surrender to the dust. Away, away, the tending went, the gentle care, the necessary maintenance, not the endless dissecting, the analyzing of the why and how, the intricate mapping of the pain. That mental cartography you drew of the outer world, the efforts spent understanding the storm that raged around you. The hurricane mentality of the self, in script the core being, you haven't tended to, The reassurance reminder of your mental Stability left fallow ground, Still ,we here, nurtured the garden for everyone else's view. Enduring the acceptance, the steady nod to what was given, the quiet agreement with the lesser portion. Humanities mental mind state, As a celebration in cahoots thats sum how complex of thought, but the quiet, aching heart space ,between thyselves the simple need to be whole, that withered first. The capacity to feel deeply, to register joy unreservedly, that too, has dried to chaff, blown away on the same wind that stripped the flower bare. And now, only the space remains, hollowed out by what was borne, a quiet, untended field, where even memory struggles to bloom. A silence where feeling used to roar. Reminence bout us, Was it in the just within it not anylized and practiced Or naturaly just unpractical to not have a metal Mind state you haven't tended to It is what it is ,in so many words, Just a little time,be thyself ,to know you Gracias

Hear in the just