She rests on her bed, contemplating the toil of tomorrow while massaging her scalp
She loses her train of thought when her fingers guide her mind into a state of relaxation she can only watch the train sink into her ocean of memories and sigh contently when she finally closes her eyes
She doesn't drown in this tranquility but she is doing the backstroke, carefully lifting the necessary force to keep her afloat all the while enjoying herself
Life should be about this, this balance but--
Everyone knows that there is no balance
Object might fall at the same rate
Energy might never get created or destroyed
But this is not balance
A lake may be perfectly still on one side of the earth and in another, there is a fire ravaging a forest. There should bring balance as they weigh equally but if they cancel each other out, what is there to weigh against
A flower and a flower are equal
But a flower and a tree are not
I'm not sure if this makes sense but the girl who is lying down with her fingers in her hair understands that if she can find balance
All will be well.
YOU ARE READING
Not Quite, Midnight | poems
Poetry~she sets out to write for herself but casts a line from her ship of lunatics in case there was someone adrift trying to read along.
