Dear World

From: Me

Subject: Blossoming When Lost in the Woods

I wish for peace and love to blossom inside myself. I strive to be like a doe in a field of flowers. The flora surrounding her does not envelop her, but stresses her already ethereal essence. The buds of the flowers are as eager to bloom as her doe eyes are to explore the depths of the forest in the distance. She isn’t scared of trees blotting out the sun and she holds the skill of navigating the darkness. The wind, carrying guiding messages, whispers to her on her path to the forest. She feels close to the birds, as she can jump high and appear light as a feather. Although, she never wishes to be a bird because jumping is her talent, and that is more than enough. The doe is carefree and wild, but the meadow inevitably ends, she gets lost in the woods, and life brings her to a crossroads and a blindingly bright light. 

I often feel like a doe in the headlights, paralyzed by the dawn of the unknown future. I can’t help worrying that the vehicle of my future will run me over. With this worry, instead of realizing the reasonable action to take is to cross the road, I stand frozen in fear at the possibility of danger.

I’m like a disoriented and shaken doe, trying to clear her mind and find her way back to the meadow. I try to listen to my keen senses, but to the point where I can’t even drink water at a pond without lifting my head to check my surroundings at every crack, patter, chirp, squeak, or rustle in the forest. A danger may be lurking in the trees and I don’t want to be caught off my guard. How I wish I could fly above these tall barriers.

I walk through the woods as the trees loom over me. I wish for the safety of my meadow and I wish I could know the right turns, but maybe I was always meant to get lost. Sometimes, the capacity of wishing gets to be a heavy weight to carry. I wish for the ability to never experience bewilderment, to go back in time and know my way.

My legs are sore from the endless walk to the way out of the woods. My belief that there will be an end dwindles, but I’m renewing my commitment to myself and I vow to not let wavering hopes get in my head and lead me to give up. I will keep trying to remind myself that trying and believing is enough. I might not literally have my flower field, but I always have it with me. I know that my dedication to showing myself love and to let love in is blossoming in my flower field, even when all seems to be drowned out by strong winds with presently indecipherable messages, even when petals blow away and end on “he loves me not”, and even when every noise in the woods sounds like some force coming to get me. Still, I keep going, keep picking myself up.

Nearing the point of total exhaustion, but keeping my head up as I continue to believe I will reach the end, I finally see a sliver of a soft, golden atmosphere on the horizon, lighting up little specks of color and a comforting blanket of bright green. I let this confirmation of the cycle of lost and found sink in as I reach the meadow and just start strolling slowly. I see the patch of budding red roses growing from the shine of a new romance. I’m struck by their already rich color, but if the color were to wrap me in its vibrance, I wouldn’t object. If the color does dim, even with my objection, other roses, maybe of an even richer red, will grow in the future. I see the daisies and daffodils: blank white pages waiting for me to write in them and my abundance of bright yellow ideas. Tulips have grown in my garden for as long as I remember and provide a familiar and comforting aroma. I don’t know the wildflowers by name, but maybe one day I will. I see the sprouting hydrangeas that are firmly rooted to the ground as long as they are watered and the sun shines down upon them. They seem to look brighter after I gaze upon them with a smile. I jump for joy, feeling ready to re-enter the forest after renewing my connection with what will always be there for me. I walk on, firmly believing in my inscribed ability to bloom once again. 

(Style Score 83%)