Humdrum

This morning smells of unfulfilled dreams and broken promises. 
It smells of burned sage and lavender leaves, also the mix of burned cookies and popcorn from the night before. 
There's darkness creeping up on my heart, eating me away, I am sad and disappointed, and frustrated at my very disappointment.
I'm grieving my unborn children this morning, I could almost see their faces. 
There's darkness that's pulling me down, I must stay alone, to preserve my light, to stay in the light, to serve the light. 
There are pains and untreated, unhealed traumas that people carry around them wherever they go, mostly the back, mostly the torso, mostly the heart, mostly the shoulders, the hips too. 
I am scared for myself, I am worried for the people, I used to have hope, it's dwindling away... 
I'm in between different worlds and several separate realities, autumn has proven to be of most importance this way, it pulls me up, takes me away, and throws me somewhere new... 
I'm learning and discovering and exploring new realms. 
My anxiety and concern keeps raising, I can't even remember what safety feels like.  
Autonomy seems to be key, just like now, just like before, just like when I was a child, just like when I was bearing or raising a child, just like when I was anticipating bearing a child. 

The house smells of broken promises and sad, aching hearts. Also of newly put out carpets and rugs. The full moon is upon us, but who cares what a mere plasma does or reflects. Our entire reality seems to be a constant reflection and projection of our inner worlds, which is shaped by pain and more disappointments. 

To be love, to do love is already a forgotten thing, what remains is the aftermath of battles beaten hearts, that beat randomly, messily, and a breath that could hardly make it through the lungs, let alone, out.