(Originally written September 15th, 2015, days before arriving in Denver where I have spent the last year and more)
Long loves and lives meander, this much I can tell you. What is harder to admit though is that I think I once figured them all crocheted snug to my skin.
It's a nice thought. The tether of time and distance is immutable, yeah, but it's also pretty plain. It seems that the more I know myself through amassing lived lives, the less I know the lives of others. Even the ones I loved so dearly. Even the ones I miss; even the ones I call.
Despite every new day, I still see emptiness around me often enough. If you follow the horizon a stretch or more down the road, there it is steeped in stillness; the stasis ever haunting. Should I just get a dog then? Does Asia truly hold more mystery than all of that? It feels like nowhere truly holds much privilege, just that it is simply not here.
It's a nice thought. The tether of time and distance is immutable, yeah, but it's also pretty plain. It seems that the more I know myself through amassing lived lives, the less I know the lives of others. Even the ones I loved so dearly. Even the ones I miss; even the ones I call.
Despite every new day, I still see emptiness around me often enough. If you follow the horizon a stretch or more down the road, there it is steeped in stillness; the stasis ever haunting. Should I just get a dog then? Does Asia truly hold more mystery than all of that? It feels like nowhere truly holds much privilege, just that it is simply not here.
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