Unbearable Lightness

Everything is moving.

Everything is fleeting.

This, too, will pass.

Every night,

while you’re gone,

nostalgia tugs on my bed  sheets,

seducing me to follow her

into the dark.

She’s good, real good…

…But then, again and again, drizzling stardust leads

me down a different trail,

to wide and open fields,

to fields of solitude.

And so on this new day,

I fill my lungs with air,

turn my face toward the morning sun,

and put my naked foot out into the grass. It tickles.

And so I step, step again, and leap.

And there, high up above the ground,

there is no rock, not even a thousand-foot crutch. There’s only

flying.

Who knows what’s on the other side.

It may not be the rock, it may not even be sturdy grounds, my vision can’t tell.

So in the absence of seeing and speaking, there’s only

feeling.

So for now, I close my eyes and just

follow every drop of blood rush through my every vein and pore.

Eventually, I see the ocean.

How long it’s going to last, I will never know.

But for now, against all odds, and against all evens, too,

I’m flying.

Darling, read these lines to me

when we’ve grown old on that bench together,

when our feet have become one with the earth,

will you.