Whispers Rivers Hearts and Mist

Imagine a roomful of the same person. One person repeated over and over again, all looking alike but bearing different opinions. Now imagine them all whispering at the same time, and that's what it's like. But denser than that, the whispers are dense so that what was already hard to hear is now smashed too close together.

And then there are subtitles, subtitles of the whispers, but they're dense too, typed words overlapping so only those that can stay on the outside are occasionally visible.

All of these whispers and words are moving around each other, curving this way and that, filling every space, a swelling river of too much thought that can at times also resemble the chaos of a New York stock market floor.

There is one voice in charge. The one that sits above it all, watching, controlling, deciding which whispers are allowed to be heard aloud. The one that is logic. Respectable but at times condescending.

One other voice is also louder than a whisper. It is thin, transparent sunset colors, and it spreads over everything like a mist. This voice, it is the loudest. Loud and gentle. It always knows the truth, always wants what is right; it has a direct line to the heart.

Now take all of that, the dense whisper/word river, the boss, the gently loud voice, and condense them until they are brain-sized and there is your picture. Your picture of the constantly-active entity that is my mind.

The sunset mist voice, that one is my favorite. That one is really me. I'd like to drain the river, and just keep the mist, because then I would always be sure, wouldn't waste time trying to forward the whisper river searching for sense. Yes, yes the mist is the loudest voice, but it does not always win. Whispers have tremendous power when they join together, when they overlap in my head, a million different versions of my voice. They are distracting, and sometimes try to entangle my heart. Nothing more would they love then to have it, steal it away from the mist, hide it in their depths. So I can't feel it anymore.

My mist though, my mist won't let it happen. Sometimes the whispers can drown it out, make it dimmer. But it is pervasive. It is strong. It is gentle. It is persistent. It won't let go. I may not always be able to hear it, but I know it won't let go because my heart won't let go either. They love each other. My heart and my mist.