i. the lost words.
The cold bites my tongue in one too many ways. Words float in and out of my head, like construction intentionally built for ruin. Some annotations left out on purpose here, some letters falling undone there. Poems kept in cases for you a hundred years over. Messages in bottles cast far away where they continually sail afloat, never reaching you.
ii. the dance.
We were always dancing. In pretty imagery, in and out of each other’s dreams, in endless timing. We dance on the slippery grounds of fate, in scenes that look like forever stand-stills. In picturesque snow globes, we move around one another gracefully with that look of enchantment in our eyes, completely enamoured and oblivious to a world outside of one another. In lighted lanterns prepared for flight, one flame gets ferociously split into two by the meddling wind, then conjoins back into one, becoming whole again. You never stop swirling through the chill air that I breathe. I see us waltzing in every forlorn tale of a moving story. We have always loved a good fight in a good dance; sprinkling sparks of wonder, making it worth the while.
iii. the snow.
I ask to see my reflection through deep, thick snow and clear hanging icicles. I do not get very far, so I continue walking the uneven path. The wind blows. It is cold down here, yet my thoughts are strangely warm. I guess nostalgia feels warm. Reminding myself that love is warm. I have more questions than answers, and in other instances, I have answers before knowing the questions. Mixed thoughts of commitment and missing you and whirlpools of emotion waft through my blue air. The wind blows. Of missed chances, broken promises, simply giving up before our time. The wind blows. Of wild explorations, young love’s blossom, of the tide that keeps bringing me back to you. The wind blows and blows. Of one too many things we’ve left unsaid, of all the communication breakdowns, of our two hearts breaking in unnecessary happenings. Of trains running off-tracks and ships sailing off-course, of chopping waters rising above the high lines, of cavernous mountains resisting release of their deadly landslides. Of the weights we’ve carried, of all the time we’ve spent apart, of all the nights we’ve caved in the dark. The wind blows and blows and blows until it stops. In this most tiresome weather, where I am catching my breath, and thoughts are swirling, spiralling, dwindling on the inside of my head.. the decision becomes clear. With the wind now a friend rather than a foe, it takes my hand and guides me to finally lay down to rest. I am feeling better here. In love and light. In your welcoming arms. I can breathe now. I can live now. For a good long time.
iv. the stars upon water.
The water, being the greatest master of push and pull, once undecided and wild with no rules, has now grown clear and solid. Rock hard yet still delicate to the slightest touch. Life lost and found and grown anew. Light, lingering emotions now steady as the night that holds the moon. It takes us looking into frozen water to see the light. It is a magical sight; the stars upon water. I thank the stars even when I do not see them for keeping watch on you during all the time I was afar. I thank the stars for aligning once to misalign then align once more in a handcrafted form of alliance with fate. I thank all of the stars even in the starless nights, for you.
