I won’t tell you that i’m an old soul. Because quite frankly, that would be utter ignorance of who I am. I am the youngest soul I know ;seemingly   naive and optimistic; A believer in everyday magic and new beginnings.   

     I can tell you however, that I am nostalgic.  my heart battles my brain to slip back in time, maybe even before my birth to find a place of solace. To find the peace that my heart sees as a default setting. When no peace is in sight I override, in a constant state of anxious contemplation. This all-encompassing peace I wholeheartedly believe I had in excess at some point; maybe in one of my lost reincarnations.

     I constantly search to find eyes that see wildflowers, and the gentle curves of letters written by soft spoken poets whose oxymoronic and witty written words are like broadswords in a bloody battle. 

    To find people with fine tuned ears that listen to music so intently that their heartbeat noticeably syncopates to the secure complexity of  musical rhythms.

      I rebel against technological advancement because the clank of machinery and the waves of radiation will drive me insane as they drive humanity further away from the simple gentle hearts, that have things to teach, but barely enough courage mustered to voice them, let alone scream them over the hum of a busy hive of hidden agenda. 

   This hidden agenda  stings lies and hidden truths so persistently that societies heart swells in hope, and in return callouses when the high wears off and truth unfolds from a well-spun cocoon. Society has learned to care for itself. The people are stubborn to fend for themselves, to not be tricked again, even if they can’t give themselves proper aid to heal their wounds. 

      It’s not that I have an old soul, I just have a lonely one. One that begs for depth, yet understands and finds a home in simplicity so well that anything more becomes overstimulation. I tend to understand too much, speak too little, and have a sub-par  vocabulary to encompass this idea in mediocrity .