Forests of Ponder
Soft whispers moan from willows along patches of broken dreams. Silent voices shimmering from beneath the sunlight. Memories of many shape the eerie in the air.
For with time, they will all be forgotten. The moments can only linger.
Cut down and lost, slowly decaying with time. Nobody will know they happened. Ever. Isn’t that such a terrifying thought? What if everything you remembered, your best memories, your worst memories, what if nobody knew they existed along with you? Everything you experienced, gone. Never spoken of again. Never heard of again. Buried along with you.
How many memories replay beneath these trees? Perhaps first loves, first kisses, first heart breaks. Maybe first bee stings, first star gazings, first friends, first drawings in the dirt, first sights of a woodpecker.
Whose ghosts dance with shadows alongside the fireflies at dusk? Who stalks the thick morning air, shifting wearily with the first drops of dew?
Whose voices have long since faded? Whose giggling still rolls in like waves at just the right moment? Whose shrieks still stain the moonlit fog? Who will never forget the moment we’ll never know existed?
What makes these thoughts so enticing is the imagination, however, imagination also proves most sinister. Curiosity never escapes. Always wondering all the things that may have happened, here, in this exact spot, but of all the possibilities, all the chances, you’ll probably never really know. Curious, isn’t it? But perhaps that’s what makes the thought so beautiful. You’ll only be able to envision them. You’ll never know. You can only stroll through the thick brush of your mind and wonder. Just simply wonder.