It's an unearned achievement, an unspoken verbal agreement, a wish upon the empty space between the stars; it's a trial by melted snow, a way to go where you are and learn what you already know, another word for the word you've been trying to think of.
Some of what you love will never love you back; it's inanimate perhaps, or incapable of it. You find the time within the clock to make yourself alright with it, to reconcile yourself to the fact that you couldn't stop another day from passing you by. And it has. And you have.
But there's more to it than that. A chance has passed that no one else ever had, no one else even saw - and isn't that enough, to know that you were the only one? You saw it recede and you see it now paused, still on the horizon - you tell yourself you could catch it up again, if you could remember how to work the controls on your imagination. But by then you'd be living in the past.
You don't believe yourself anyway - when you tell yourself something like that. You've told yourself things like that before.
No comments:
Post a Comment