Not long ago there was a start to it, of what is now something of considerable length and perhaps complexity, this journey here and there, cause whatever takes place here has always owed so much if not all to what happens there, in life. It has always been a fruit of mind and memory and most of all of an element that might be named after so many words. Whether it’s prosperous or a disappointment, a hope that arised to then plunge into mere illusion. Love accommodates all, everything inside may be subject of joy or not joy, for I’ve always failed to find sadness in love, you know… I was never sad in it, maybe cause I never could grasp it for real and yet, I feel like I have it within and know it’s meaning too well. A man-made description of what is so abstract. That’s what I do, my role after all, here and there.
Well… we, we are so regular that it’s actually funny. You, me, we’re just brains in need of a rush of something else cause we’re done with this same old blood, so torpid! Ache hit us both at moments, different situations, not so apart in time though. Between us it is actually the distance that causes this pseudo-segregation, more than the time itself or the age, or the hope that you lack and I so freely try to everyday grant you.
It has been different after all, our specific conjugation, this color that was created at our touch might not be so easily replicated, and we know that, yet we stay serene, just as we should. Life, two people, a chat, a laugh that can’t be heard, a hmmm or a ton of them, all one can wonder of. That’s us and I slowly and honestly came to love us.
And yes! the wait… you wrote. I love time and cherish said wait, you’re right… and the stew of feelings that overcooks in that particular way only if you let time do its job. Writing on love is to always be on verge of something that will eventually cross our minds, to stay never on the present but always somewhere back or forward, to not be ruled by any clock except heart’s. Is to put in this page a word, and another that means something special, a unique illumination of odd exotic nature carved to be felt by every single one who reads it.
If I met you, that was because I’ve waited unconditionally for a feeling that I couldn’t flee from, a person that walked away, unexpectedly, but what could I be expecting from it after all done and said (or undone and unsaid)? It was lost… for good, and one can always discern it so plainly, it’s clear. That chilling water was splashed on my face and I came to my senses more, I got a little more real at that moment, a slight cure. I’ve assumed to struggle with the act of parting, of abstaining from thoughts that don’t leave. And this eventuality, a chance, as all life is random and so am I, that’s what you call me anyway, and I so adore being it, that hovering soul. All this is the consequence of a bygone strike that I missed and such bad luck threw me here, in need of finding me though I never admitted so to myself, cause how can we have a focused picture of ourselves in those moments we’re spinning so fast up there? A head that wasn’t in place anymore, was lost and bound to become a ruin. Now. We can call this serendipity. It ended up being it, definitely.
And this naturally grew to be, fundamentally, a tale of caring and worrying, hoping without expecting and loving without touching. For the mornings, they always begin there just as the nights, they will forever continue to fade out here at last. With time, that became natural to me, like if there’s this perfect time window that was built to dream awake and we both happened to look through it at the same time and since then, we just couldn’t stop staring at each other.
You see… how beautiful this is?!… I know you do.