Last night, I had this strange feeling that the earth was whispering to me. It wasn’t a voice I could hear, but a pressure in my chest, a warmth that made my skin feel like it was alive. I thought about how the fallen become part of the earth, how life is precious and fleeting. It’s like the world is made of moments that slip through your fingers, and you can’t hold them anymore. I don’t know if that’s what I was trying to say, or if I was just trying to make sense of why I keep dreaming about the river and the quiet places where the earth meets the sky.
When I woke up, the sun was barely up, and the river was still. I’ve been walking along its banks a lot lately, trying to find the place where the water and the land meet. It’s not like I’ve ever been here before, but it feels like I’ve always known this spot. Maybe that’s because I’ve been walking in circles, trying to find something that’s not there. Maybe the earth is telling me that I don’t have to keep searching. Maybe I just need to stop trying to hold on to what’s gone and let it become part of me.