Something Blue

I am in this place where I can pick out the individual grains of dirt and count the crooked branches along the road to self discovery. I draw them into my visual vocabulary and I brim with happiness and wonder. Nameless things assemble before my eyes. I look at them in my mind for hours, turn them over, give them motion. I study the shine on every angle and also the darkness on the undersides where mystery makes its hiding place. Will this last? I feel the start of something that is the product of everything my life has been up to this point and everything that will in time whip my windshield to be picked up and gathered along the edges of my glass. But things will never be the same, I feel that too. There is a loss welling inside me. It lies dormant someplace dark where I can't catch its contours without squinting, which makes my eyes hurt so I don't do it and am never able to yank the feeling out from the shadows to bring it to the light. Yet still it grows with each thought I feed its existence, and once it expands it can never be insignificant again.