The solid heart, the flexing soul

It has become that sort of day in which thoughts are weightless, and anxiety diminishes to a floatiness that disposes of the future. It is a day that stiffens the cocoon, adds a glint of the most golden light. It is fluffy and it is like cotton, and it stretches beyond a mundane, deathly place that would halt this sudden march.

People speak and sing and holler but they sort of muffle on the bliss of my ears. I’m almost oblivious to those calls and glide on, with a burgeoning grin plastered on my face. The deep sanctity resonating. Oneness progressing. And some blossoming, much-missed and improbable connect, straight from the bowels. That soundtrack, I ingest it.

What would it sound like if words? A harmonious rumble delicately swishing across the airwaves, prevalent in the background – the solid heart, the flexing soul. Half on the wind and half in my head, previously impermeable, some elevated orchestra jamming the symphonies. Not only the normal note, the usual note, of the beast-traffic growl, but the extra choral surprise. Real, fake, real.

Suddenly I’m in a passage of pure understanding after the deep-freeze of the solemn dark winters. After the momentous hail, when thoughts splintered and nothing matched up. Simple happenings disintegrated. After the brilliant thaw when deadened colours were emboldened by a transforming blush... zeitgeist moments fresh as a washed pillowcase. These moments aren’t really there they are so soft; I don’t notice that I’m almost beyond where I need to be.

This is another spot I think I know, although maybe it chimes because it’s simply similar to another memory I grin at, bringing it out, as I do, from the murky lost times. Everything leads me to a side lane. Brings me to a déjà vu land that I’ve wrapped around for years now, doused myself in because it’s the closest sensation to hope that I can remember.

That’s ingrained in my memory of the place, and somehow, through the dreamlike burrow of fortuity, through thousands of colliding realities, I slip into it again and I’m allowed to do so. What a fantastic light, a pure beam amid an otherwise imperfect trajectory. I stumble in, winding through the crowds. The narrow lane that I saw all the time but never registered.

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