The Lion, The Fish, and The Wardrobe
I find impossible, the task of explaining that I cry, not because I am sad, rather that I am overwhelmed in the moment, in MY moment because I am HAVING a moment... Of revelation. Of Clarity. Of Understanding the big picture, and the throbbing agony of beauty entrapped in it all.
Death ignited a flame, which lit a path. A path is not somewhere to stand idle. We are meant to keep moving. When cars collide, it affects the stride of everything locked behind them. Not until the wreckage is cleared and we move past it, does the freeway open up, everyone breaths, and tensions relieve.
It's peace, and war battling in my thoughts; In my being, and it's me, realizing that it's ok for both to be happening... And for nothing to be happening.
It's being lost in a moment so meaningless, that it's profound. It's these Zero Hours, when the truest versions of ourselves are found.
It's being terrified, and completely unafraid.
It's being calmed by your anxiousness because you let anxiety become a rationalizing security blanket.
It's being content in your own complicity, and failing to capture all of it's duplicity.
Bring your darkness into my light, and let it shade me when life gets too warm, and I'll shine for you, when you can't find your way through the storm.
Give me your moment in time, and let me love it as one of my own forevers.
Let's leave this place, while we sit, right here.
I want to speak in silences, that only our love languages understand.
Let me plant your seeds, and let me be everything you need, and I'll let you teach me how to be happy with exactly who I am.
Let age not matter because if we love forever, and without judgement, we will be infinite in our universe.
How existential, the potential, in every blink of an eye, for every blink is an opportunity to see ourselves in a different light.
Let us not fight but learn to disagree.
You love the wild in my wilderness, and yet, fear how it makes you vulnerable... to yourself. You don't want to feel forced to change but I will never ask you to mold yourself around me. Never ask you to reshape the core of your being. Who you are, is what made me see past everything that damaged my wings.
We should not let others love us, less than we love ourselves but should not let fear place us on stagnant, dusty shelves.
It's quite marvelous, the still short story of us. Is does not seem to have any specific beginning or end. Forever in its infancy, I do not wish to have it written as though there were a starting line, or a ribbon to burst through in some final chapter we envisioned. To speak in such a manner suggests that we are in control.
We are endless, bottomless, heightless, and fathoms beyond those around us. The firing gun that began our event was so loud, we didn't even notice it. The ending is lost somewhere, in a breathtaking sunset.
I did not choose you.
You were placed upon me, like everything in our stories. Lined up so perfectly untimely, to help me learn how to be... FREE.