I’ll let the beauty of it dictate dreams and wash my feet in streams of consciousness and bliss. I’ll neither confirm nor deny whatever they said, only…what does it matter anymore? Could be I look better to you from a distance anyway. The stars up close would blind and burn, we think we know but do we learn, to love the longing like we should, and if we could, would we really run away? And how long would that last?
I’ve been down here on earth long enough to stop to ask. I will not let that be my undoing. I will find the joy in these days in between and squeeze the life from every second that I can. While they have talked of my degradation, plotting annihilation, I’m going to laugh it off, even if I have to pretend to, and live up to my reputation. Won’t that be irony? I don’t give a damn what they say about me, though sometimes I wish they hadn’t said so much to me.
I can forgive, though I’d rather not forget. It’s overcast and “those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it,” or so someone said, though I don’t recall who it was or if it was meant to be a curse or just some ancient Chinese secret. Perhaps it was in some other language but it doesn’t matter what it was because… I don’t speak it. I can forgive…I can find the thrill in every sunrise and the truth in every lie and I can tell you why
When you think there’s nothing left, wait one more minute, do the best you can, to remember something worth remembering and know that the ache of it won’t break you, let it save you. You felt it once, you can feel it again and hang on, hang on. Night is falling…
but only because it is chasing daylight.
Push up hard from the bottom, break the surface, take a breath with everything you have left and live,
to fight another day.
(“Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it.” ~ George Santayana, Spanish American philosopher)