We leave half a world of memories abandoned but after having lived them well. I cruise through those with an intention of making more, every night, after drifting into sleep. I wake up and think of the other half that is yet to be created. For the remaining half, we do not meet. We walk alone. Sometimes, same continent, different countries. Sometimes, same cities, same lanes, with a rider to not cross each other. While this goes on, as do other things in life, accepting this as nature, is to be wise. The years will add up for both of us. When they do for you, do not regret the messages sent today because realizations are wicked little things. I have lived my share.
Dream each night. Wake up and read some. Wash up and plot some journeys. And before one knows, the years have all added up, taking one down the river to meet life’s sea.
Along that course, filling up mornings with poetry seems a way. Patricia Jones’ ‘Seraphim’ for today –
And they love the lovers.
And one remains lovingly disinterested.
How dreams and death and a dearth
Of joy is visible. And wings spread
And wings fall. And the beloved becomes
A man who understands a woman’s
Full figure. A man who fears fever.
A man who takes his lover in all
Her melancholy and lifts her up
And unto joy.