Some people never understand. Mantra sees their confusion. She feels the pain. She knows the blindness is the cause of the confusion.
Loneliness is a painful process. Time may be filled with people; however, when those people are not satisfying the core needs, they are nothing but inert filler.
We need catalysts in our lives to strum the heartstrings. They touch us on a level where our souls make music. If we have filler in our lives, the notes are flat and not fulfilling. We need the symphonic sound created only by being in the presence of those we love who love us in return.
Once in a while, we encounter the one we love who does not need the notes we play. It does not stop us from loving this one. Nothing we do makes them need what we have. For us, this one is a catalyst. For this one, we are inert filler.
How we cope is a matter of choice. Sometimes, just sometimes, we make a choice our need cannot be filled by anyone else. The blindness to the possibility there are more people who can play the notes can be deadly.
In Stillness Lay tells the story of a man who could not believe anyone else could play the notes to harmonize his heart’s song.
In Stillness Lay
He sauntered up the walk with a drink in his hand.
His swagger was a bit subdued at two a.m.
The van had pulled out of the driveway, and
he looked furtively at his watch amidst small talk.
The neighbors saw the endless parade
of sports buddies and friends from work,
but what shattered the charade
was one who stood out from all the rest.
When the guys would leave for the night,
he would dash inside, the house all dark,
save for the front porch light.
Until the car parked in the drive.
The light went dark, so one had to strain
to see the flash of blonde streak up the walk.
Nosy neighbors’ children knew the refrain
of the old man music he played that late.
Their curfews broken kept his secret until
the siren shredded the cricket’s song.
At last his restless spirit was still.
She’d come to him for the last time.
Worried over his broken heart,
she called before the dawn.
Endless ringing gave her a start,
and she called for help.
The bottle was still in his hand,
but the recoil was just too much.
The gun lay on the nightstand
beside the picture of them.
Have you seen the difference between inert filler and a catalyst? Do you know someone who has felt the despair of inertia? Have you known or been the one?
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