It was a feeling.
A feeling of Winter and Summer within each palm.
Sitting, a sense of casualty. Thoughts in your mind crashing into each other like two similar trains that collide as both your palms collide to escape the feeling of insecurity. A mix of cold and warmth. A question of which hand to use, when we shake hands
do you want the warm truth or cold lie?
A frozen foot and another, burnt
Every morning, I wake up to a question of which foot
to use, when I leave my place of comfort, as my head betrays my feet, and the sharp stones it has to face. Even the sky betrays the land. Broken aspects of the sky, the clouds. Broken aspects of the land, the drought. Broken aspects to thoughts, the mind. Broken aspects to love, the heart. Again, It was just a feeling.