Comfort among insects

Sitting on the grass in a small unattended garden, i realize…

Sitting on the grass in a small unattended garden…among tiny insects hopping or crawling around…light blond roaches and shell tailed worms and small active ants…living along…undisturbed by our presence, the seated… on their ground…their earth…their environment…

Sitting on the grass in a small unattended garden, among tiny insects and with big people…old people…mature people…educated people…who are a spectrum full of colors…from arrogant red and annoying yellow to kind blue and fresh green, even shy flirty proud pink…all wrapped up to form a pure white shade.

Sitting there feeling alone but not lonely…warm but disoriented…far from my world yet so close to myself…

hearing the story of a blue beard…the monster that looks familiar…the beast in us or others…and almost seeing how we doubt the blue fake and voluntarily see it as ordinary and kind…how the flashes of uniqueness can hide the queerness, only in a delusional eye…

Sitting on damp grass and connecting with nature’s insects and people and mud and greenery…synchronizing the

 being and recognizing the self…

I relate…

I debate…

I smile…

I feel annoyed and restless…

I comprehend some…and embrace some…and feel enormous tides of compassion, love and understanding just from the presence of a warm heart…I ignore a surprisingly mean silent rant…I ignore momentary abnormalities…

And i go home…leaving the grass…the creatures that coped with my peaceful invasion and the human presence that would enrich only if i allow it…and i go home…

wondering if i could feel the same comfort i felt toward the insects, with my thoughts, emotions and decisions…