My Highly Sensitive Aging Self

Photo by Joshua Reddekopp on Unsplash

​My hair is greying at the temples where my thoughts dwell in a sea of clarity. All I feel are the zeros inside of circles. Such as the seasons, time, the earth, which turn me into a Tree, I am.

Skies see me and blink in earnest, nodding as I walk my way.

I’m learning to understand who I am.

Mistakes are my wisdom. Unknowing what I thought I knew, teaches me more than pretending. Asking for help to reach what I am unable to do, isn’t weak.

Sensitivity crafts me a vessel and we sail over seas not only to think but to weep. I’m not alone when the answers are few. More have come before me. That’s why the oceans are so salty.

And so, with this bit of overthinking, I can still smile and laugh with myself which lends me to poeticness too.

Let’s turn down the sun and let’s turn up the moon. Let’s trace the stars with our eyelashes. Let’s listen to the circles together. Let’s dream a wide dream.

Because we are all intrinsically interconnected — equally belonging to the circle of loving, living and dying.

Let’s make this world more true.