Clouds, Attic & Hearth Chapter 2: Remain Open

Refurbishing an oldie...imagining evening conversations between the spirit, mind, and heart via whispered poems—perfect for bedtime.

If you missed Chapter 1, it’s linked here! More about the series here. :)

I recommend listening to this poem alongside the beautiful playlist above! Read more about NATURE becoming an official artist on Spotify, Apple Music, etc. below:

environment

A post shared by @environment

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I can feel your unease, Attic. Your shingles shake & your brick shifts. Hearth, I see your unsteadiness. You are fighting to flicker & steady your flame.
-Clouds whispered.

I have to make a choice today.
-Attic sighed between shingles.

I said I would listen & help you—ask what a thought looks like before it's thought.
-Hearth fizzed.

What choice must you make, Attic?
-Clouds asked calmly.

I can't decide if I should permanently lock the shutters on my dormer window. In the winter they ice over. In the summer, their wood swells with moisture. It creates discomfort.
-Attic groaned.

I see. Do you trust me?
-Clouds asked.

Absolutely.
-Hearth replied.

I would, but I don't understand why you don't deter the harsh & humid winds, knowing that my shutters are not strong enough to completely withstand them.
-Attic hissed.

How old are you?

Too ancient to have kept count.
-Hearth responded.

And even with the force, cold, or heat of the wind, has your dormer window cracked? Have your shutters broken? Has your brick crumbled? Has your foundation faltered?

I suppose not.
-Attic creaked.

In my flame, I feel both the unpredictable temperature & strength of the air currents. Has this fortified us? Because we've braved the beats of weather together while they thump & echo throughout the house & between us?
-Hearth burned.

Yes. You've survived & processed what passes uneasily through me. And let me say, as you make your decision, Attic, please be careful & mindful. The plumbing that affords us choice is quite old, and with limited verbal connectivity; wise but not lacking. 

I understand. The nature of my shutters allow dense dark, intense heat, and thick cold. But they also allow bright light, soothing warmth, and refreshing chill. I can't always know or predict which, and if I shut them to avoid the former, I will never know the latter. And nor will Hearth.
-Attic was quiet & calm.

Yes, beautifully put. My library of clouds is filled with stories from storm clouds to soft white clouds (and everything in between). All are sponge-flesh, and tonight, I'm a simmering storm.

Hearth fashioned a flame & sent it gently licking up the plaster to the ceiling that is also Attic's floor, as if placing a hand on a shoulder.

We're ready.

*The original version of this poem was shared on Medium, here, in February 2021. It has, of course, been edited & repurposed!