Reflecting.

I’m pretty sure I’d say goodbye to all the agents that drove me to dream of you. I didn’t even love you like that, yet here you are. Standing before me in a world where adventure reigns and balancing acts become a thing of the past as we dive into to the fall where I had begun journey #1.

It’s no wonder suicide is not this crushing blow to me. Death always escapes me anyway. Maybe that’s why my art can’t compare to the words I write. There’s more cadence, I find, below the surface and it continually reinvents itself depending on our perspective.

My art can’t do that.

And death can’t come close.

These dreams are finishing where I left off years ago. It’s inticing to know one slip of my foot and I’d be there. But. I’m not finished. Not yet. Not here. Even if it be my last time around, I’d like to savor the process.

I have no choice.

To think what we could have been on earth. Our young hearts exploded at the thought that someone had outrun us. Yet again. It wasn’t me but I was the brazen one. You feared the unknown. I was fearful, too, but I was courageous. Always. And you admired that about me because maybe that’s what you lacked.

Either way, each too young to recognize our our own reflection. I can’t help but wonder if the gods still weep at such a cosmic blow. The Klatch must be buzzing with news that you’ve crossed barriers again. I can only imagine what they’re saying.

 

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