After transition, will I care? For a little while, shall there a time out of time for nostalgia?
Ride, dance, run, play the music of times long gone, endless cups of tay in front of a fireplace or balcony, or verandah, mad dances on ice, standing naked in the freezing rain, running to the hot tub? Picnics by the river? Attar on black satin in a freezing room lit by fireplace, and torchlight with incense burning, blanket electric. Midnight walks in the gardens, on the shore, watching storms come in, exploring the places we only knew of, watching history as it really happened, and mindshares up the yin-yang. Looking at all the paintings I can't tear myself away from, again. Maybe adding to them? Though photography is faster.
Art. So much art, in so many forms. Before moving on to nothingness in everything. Or is that everything in nothingness?
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I feel like I've been reintroduced to an old friend. So precious, She. I've just been given the best of everything in so many ways, it seems to me. And I want to pay it back.
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How long is three years? Vacation? Prison sentence? School? Life? Perspective. Are you waiting for something to start, or to end?
Then you have a comparison. Less than three years to less than six and a half months.
What am I waiting for????????????
Something I was told would happen over seven years ago, didn't. Something I was told, because I couldn't handle the truth.
But I guess it doesn't matter. Everything is as it should be, or it wouldn't be.
Garbage isn't forever. It has to decompose some time.
I'm glad I'm removed from the worst of it. . .for now. For I've been neck deep in it.
