One day I’ll feel it.
One day I’ll know what it is.
It will fill me up.
I’ll glow.
Things will be better.
Or at least feel that way.
I’ll peel it back.
Reveal the underneath of it all.
That thing that hides.
And then in a corner of the room it whispers.
Whispers that there’s nothing there.
There’s nothing to feel.
Nothing to fill you.
There’s darkness.
Nothing to peel back.
Underneath you is nothing.
The world is as it is.
The shine that you wish to shine from the leaves of the trees and the rain covered windows and the lakes and streams and and all of that.
It will never come.
But still you’ll walk the floor of the kitchen and the sidewalk with your dog expecting it to come.
One day it will come like a great wave rolling down the street.
You will open your arms and welcome it.
That’s what you’ll continue to think.
And you will be wrong.
It never comes.
This is the world.
And the whispering ceases.
And the sunlight dims a little bit.
My stomach twists.
I walk to the whispering corner and kick away the dust, the dog hair.
Nothing there.
Creaking boards.
I make a pot of coffee.
One day I’ll feel it.
