Hear in the just

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