Isn’t it sad to think of the fate of the sun. An endless cycle of patience as it awaits to greet the moon. Constantly running parallel to an existence so close yet never within reach.
I think timing is like that. We plan and plan, we wait with unending patience hoping for that invitation, that one step needed to cross the threshold, never knowing the result.
But, it’s not that it’s impossible
it’s just timing.
An unequivocal force, a standard of measurement, unaccepted, refused,
so we gnash in anguish at it’s inequality, it’s deliberate indifference to patience.
But still I wait,
how can I not.
“To stare across the abyss of light and darkness, a stark contrast isn’t it? Almost similar in their desolation. How lonely.”
Timing, breeds patience, an inexplicably connected existence of two opposites linked in their sadness.
I could mumble the many wonders of the sky, sights of wonder and woe, but linked between these two existences of the sun and the moon are the stars. To be distanced by time only to sit watching, waiting with nothing but the vastness of the stars, how cruel.
But could we not agree a lonely love is still love?
How we still choose patience built against the backdrop of indifference, it is our nature, our very cores that make it so, we are beings of longing, with nothing but envy and dreams,
a vision of the betterment of ourselves, of a future within our grasp, hoping, making, believing what we will have, nay must have,
unable to look left or right, unable to view the world across the distance because why would we?
there it is, just beyond the horizon.
A burnt out afterimage of light, that cold grace of darkness and between that the
tender twinkles of aspirations and dreams, those miraculous little dots of love promising us nothing but hope, nothing but sadness.
“We gnash and we wait. Hoping to build a life around patience, a life free of timing. And in that life we forget about the in between. So focused on the sun and the moon never to see whats right in front of us, the stars.“