Every hot wind carrying ancient dust that blows in our faces hears us out as we swear that we won’t be like the others, we won’t be like the rest. Our hearts rise and fall in waves in ebbs and flows and foamy hot seas, our longing for something more swirls around us and holds us transfixed. All we can do is think of the other even as we search for nebulae in our backyards and right now I hang adrift.
I am scared.
We walk along the ocean shore, my hand trailing in yours and you smile so young and warm and I wonder where I left it all behind, when I left it all adrift, why I became all unglued at the seams, how I am walking on nothing now. Could we go there if we sought it enough, could we go where no one knows us, could we go to the place of the orange mountains and red valleys and find the places where the wind begins or the places where the waves began? Could we travel to the ends of the universe on the back of the force of the waves and winds, could we meet our voices from decades ago floating on the edge of the ether? Didn’t we ponder over that on that cool evening next to the sea as my eyes met yours? They contained the sun and the universe in them.
Would we know why, would we never cease to wonder? Could we fly? We believed in it so much, so much.
The sun was setting.
Oh what made life so unique and alive and wonderful when so much of what we think and do is repitition? Motions, wants, sensations, movement. Something intangible, something that cannot be defined and yet it makes life worth living every moment there is. Every breath we have.