As the days swayed darting from future to past, I held a hollowness that I could not fill. I was alone. The world was a quiet place. I was a quiet figure, and the countryside that held me was an even quieter domain. I raced up trees, rolled down hills, chewed on prairie grass. I became a dreamer. But I was still alone.
I should be grateful for the cornfields that I got to swim in, the apple orchard I got to eat from, and the blue skyline that never stopped or was interrupted by anything. Nature held me in its palms. It became my mother.
I longed to forget you. To un remember the the things I saw, the things you did, the things that I became because of you. Yet the harder I tried to release your grip upon me, the more I turned into you. The more I became you.
Your eyes reflect in mine. Their depths and intensity like oceans. Too deep to fathom. Your midnight hair and black-holed eyes are other inheritances. I see them everyday I see myself. I expected more from you. Back then you stood so tall compared to me. You were so strong. You had to be. But I guess like me, you had weaknesses. You were human and there was only so much you could handle. Then you were gone. You were my mother who had once been a god.
