Night


Night is falling. The light changing. Electric evening blue sliding through the trees shadowed in that way again. The way that I remember. It doesnโ€™t matter if it is real or not. Iโ€™ll let beauty dictate dreams and wash my feet in streams of consciousness and bliss. I donโ€™t deny anything only, what does it matter anymore? Could be I look better to you from a distance. The stars up close would blind and burn. We think we know but do we learn to love the longing like we should?If we could, would we really run away together? How long would that last? Iโ€™ve been here on Earth long enough 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 talk of degradation, plot annihilation, Iโ€™m going to laugh it off, live up to my reputation. Wonโ€™t that be irony? I donโ€™t give a damn what they say about me, only sometimes I wish they hadnโ€™t said so much to me. You know under pressure, thereโ€™s really no one better. I can forgive. I can forget. I can live without regret and better still, I can find a thrill in every sunrise and the truth in every lie and I can tell you why I can. Because, I am. When you think thereโ€™s nothing left wait one more minute. Do the best you can to remember something good, to remember something worth remembering, the ache of it wonโ€™t break you. Let it save you, because itโ€™s true. Night is falling, but only because it is chasing daylight. Push up from the bottom, break the surface and take a breath, with everything you have left, and live to fight another day.

 

from, Gold Mine

 

(“Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it.” ~ George Santayana, Spanish American philosopher)

Categories: prose