A Night Piece

Atmosphere matters.  What permeates the air, matters.  Sucking in gusts of whatever surrounds, one neglects to consider the consequences.  We are plants.  We grow and wither.  We thrive and shrink once in touch with extremes.  Certain atmospheres are jolting. We don’t understand.  We hold out, waiting for something to give, improve.   But truthfully, an atmosphere is an innate part of any established environment.  The fixtures within may change.  The atmosphere, rarely so.  Atmospheres choke.  You leave one that breathes life and upon entering another, gasps prevail.  Questioning, why this altitude?  Where to grasp?  Where to find solace?  I tell you, not in this atmosphere.  To flee, you understand, requires strength.  Strength few have.  Instead, it is customary to tolerate, to wait, to wish, to wait.  You ask, what will fill the thoughts of others when I disappear?  Happy in my disappearing, happy to never be seen again.  It is interesting, I think, because in most cases, you were never really seen.  It is not you who disappears from their sight.  It is a waif of yourself, a flailing plant.  But, only you know that.  So you run.  Looking for somewhere to place roots, ever fearful of “the grass is greener” and the falsehoods such a phrase entails.  In quiet, you are again struck by a voice.  You’ve heard it all along but now, in your tiredness, you choose to listen. With its sweet words, relief touches the air. You move forward, tentative but alright.  You breathe, you feel, your roots seize ground.  You look about and are astonished.  Heaven, is it?  A, mirage, you think.  What beauty and grace.  How is it so?  Has it been that long since these eyes have seen free?  No, not long at all.  You’ve simply been covered.  Covered by low hanging clouds.  Entrenched in nomadic sorrows.  Tired of being everywhere and belonging nowhere.  But, now you see dust rise.  A clean dust, sprinkles of life.  It soon settles, as does your gait.  You feel happy.  Clear mind. It is here that your atmosphere is most improved.  Where impairment has ceased.  Not hardship or pain, mind you, for it always comes.  Rather, your heart has loosened its clench. You no longer fear the jeopardy of existing in a place not your own.  You can feel, think, and breathe in this atmosphere.  No longer must you run.  In fleeing what was comfortable but contorted, you have reached enlightenment and peace.  In fact, once you ceased resistance and acknowledged what truly was, it happened almost naturally.  You have been allowed to embrace that which is naturally felt.  Never easy to find, forever beautiful.  This atmosphere.

1:07 a.m.