“On overthinking” by Peyton Christensen

And Peyton spoke asking, 

“Speak to us on overthinking” 

And I answered saying 

When the world pulls away in the calm of the night, 

my mind turns into a restless ocean, 

with every wave representing a query and every ripple representing a doubt. 

I construct towers of speculation and imagined anxieties one after the other,

 only to see them fall apart under the weight of spoken realities.

What is this maze in which I find myself?

A work of my own invention in which each turn duplicates the previous one and each path splits.

I take comfort in the whispers of stillness, 

but all I discover are echoes of my unease as I pluck the petals of my soul 

and ask the wind what it cannot answer.

“Stop your endless weaving,” 

the heart, a silent shepherd, commands.

The strands you hold onto are the invisible shadows of a loom, 

not the fabric of existence.

Nevertheless, I keep going, 

as though the process of dismantling may disclose the significance of the mayhem I inflict.

Is it my desire to control the limitless or my fear that holds me back?

Maybe they’re just two sides of the same coin that I’m holding on to too hard.

Oh, how the stars do not care, their radiance unfazed by my thoughts’ tremble.

They talk about emptiness, surrender, and unquestionable beauty.

And I see the foolishness of my effort in their silent brilliance—to think is to live, but to live is not always to think.

So I let go of my troubles and let the flow carry me.

Because I am simply a drop in a big ocean.