It’s hard to fight that crushing feeling.
It starts with a dream. Little hopes, wishes made by a long shot. You hope Mister Sandman carries the right thoughts. Or the dreamcatcher is stringed to capture every moment of that dream. It doesn’t take too long when you wake up with a smile on your face. Suddenly, the world is bathed in sunshine.
There’s something about that crushing feeling that’s hard to explain. Perhaps, and perchance, that’s what the poem is made for. Short, small pieces of verse; words pieced together to convey the right emotion. Yet what is so right about something that feels odd, or something that seems wrong? The right question for all the wrong answers… or is it otherwise? Does the heart need any other explanation or reason other than for what it feels?
The heart confuses the mind. It befuddles it with questions never asked, and it saddles it with answers at the same time. Not of knowing – there’s always a perfectly rational answer to a rational question – but of feeling. It’s hard to escape. You just wonder if there’s a reason for it, but then you savor the moment. You take pleasure in the momentary, the fleeting, the inevitable while. It just happens.
Maybe that word – “crush” – is just the most proper of terms. It breaks right through you. It takes you out of your rhythm, yet it takes you in its arms. A hug, a caress, an embrace. You don’t fight to send it out, but you take it in. Slowly but surely, it would not end. It just goes on. It transforms, it changes, it becomes.
There’s no fighting that crushing feeling.