Somewhere in there is belief. Maybe it is because of no firm acknowledging of the need to grieve it. To fully lose it. Or is it because understanding some things are moment’s in time but not the end of time?

Still. A tough word. A mustard seed. The grain of salt. At the bottom of the barrel and of these things–hope.

Freed of shackles may liberate the burdens of demise. Unattached from people, places, and things may create a bubble of intimacy. Vulnerability charging up compromise shall push a fine line. A boundary. Broken. Opening a new door.

See the thing about reality is reframing exists. What lives in one space may be curated subjectively in another. But does it take the pain away? Good question. Answering doesn’t make it true, false, or sensationalize the feeling. It’s just responded to.

Back to still. Right back there. Still love. Still reinvigoration. Still safety. Still desire. Still security. Still support. Still not, here or there. Still not a milestone. Still absent of mines, ours, or us. Still existing. Still floating. Still tangled, webbed, and weaved. Still complex. A tapestry in time.

The loudest cries won’t be verbal. The softest plea may be silence. The toughest cravings to a may be maybe joy in proximity. The hardest battle is letting a battle go unfought.

In the lowest point. The most challenging moment. After all of the time – what now? Intricate emotions lived unyielding to words shared not deepening connection. They bind it. Bound by chains. Enhanced with electrical wiring. Guarded by trained dogs. Producing fear. Of the unknown, of the past, of the pain, and of what is in your eyes.

Good enough, underwhelming, overbearing – beyond the appetite for, no. No. Never.

Call it Never neverland. Because the lived experience makes any possibility a delusion. One that must be embraced to show up peacefully and pure.

And you’re back at possibility. Resounded in hope. Yet–still.