Never going to not dance again...

But, oh, one thing I'm never gonna do,

is throw away my dancing shoes,

and don't try me, really, not tonight.

I'll lay down and die,

I'll scream and I'll cry,

we've already wasted enough time.

For once I wouldn't start a fight...

Walking around the world...

No, there was nothing more to be done. He had tried not to go over the precipice, but perhaps the fall was inevitable. And it comforted him to think that the future was certainly inevitable; cause and effect would go jangling forward to some goal doubtless, but to none that he could imagine. At such moments the soul retires within, to float upon the bosom of a deeper stream, and has communion with the dead, and sees the world’s glory not diminished, but different in kind to what he has supposed. He alters his focus until trivial things are blurred. And ever since this has been the attitude with which he has always confronted life: from things too much waited for, too much embellished with anticipatory daydreams, there is in the end nothing he can do but run away.

I'm down for the ride...

I am sad to think that the worst case scenario is coming true. Of all the hardships I had to face so far, none seem to sting as much as the injustice of seeing someone you love get overlooked. The look of disappointment they give you, when they seek comfort in your eyes is heart wrenching. Even more punishing than the simple act of waiting. It's as if I've stepped off the edge of a cliff, and even though my heart's in my mouth and my stomach is in knots, I'm the most scared I've ever been in my life. I want to save both of us from the agony of unspent promises. And I want to be able to look in his eyes and say something meaningful. That would somehow make it okay. 

There are caravans we follow...

I am really nervous for him. More so than for myself. I know that I'm going to be fine either way, but I'm not so sure he will. And it's not that I don't think he's strong enough, it's just he has had so many disappointments that this might be the straw that breaks the camels backs. He is only human after all, and there is only so much one can take. Is there some way I can still steer the strands of fate? Can I somehow convince the universe to sacrifice my future for his? Or perhaps there's a way we both get what we want? Or what I fear most, me getting it, and him losing out by a thread. I guess this must be what purgatory is like. Can't go forward. Can't go back. Awaiting some official judgment. A proclamation of destiny. 

Hello. It's me. Are you there? Would really appreciate an answer. And I know he would as well. We haven't spoken in awhile, but I trust that you have been listening nonetheless. Please be gentle. To him. I'll be fine. But don't be too hard on me either. Not sure where you two had a falling out, but I think it's time you made amends. He's trying, you cannot deny that. And whatever grudge you still hold, it's time to let it go. Imagine me telling you what to do. The audacity. But I've always been bold. You know this. I have a sneaking suspicion that's what you secretly like about me. Anyway. How about it? Can you come through for both of us? Just this once?

Lay me down in sheets of linen...

Something in the orange...

It'll be fine by dusk light,

I'm telling you, baby,

these things eat at my bones 

and drive my mind crazy

But when I place my head between your collar and jaw

I don't know much 

but there's no weight at all.

Hold the sky, it's so wide...

It's coming down, no sound, it's all around...

I read somewhere, I've forgotten where exactly, that once, very long ago, Time fell in love with Fate. This, to me, immediately seemed problematic. As their romance would disrupt the flow of the universe. It would tangle the strings of fortune into knots. I wondered, what might happen to the days and nights were time to suffer a broken heart? What catastrophes might result if the same fate awaited Fate itself? Not sure what, but I think something happened to their love or maybe a higher power intervened. Because time continued to flow as it always had, or perhaps imperceptibly slower. Fate weaved together the paths that were meant to intertwine, though perhaps a string was missed here and there. Then suddenly, it seemed as if events that were once fated to happen were left instead to chance, and Chance never falls in love with anything for long. But the world is strange and endings are not truly endings no matter how the stars might wish it so. Maybe Fate can pull itself together again. And Time is always waiting.

Blurring out my periphery...

I think I have to accept that there are powers far beyond me. Machinations so above what I could ever think of, visions far more vast than what I can ever see with my own pathetic eyes. There are horizons long gone beyond my own. And I think this is what it means to be courageous - to throw away what are my own limited plans and to thrust myself into the hands of these higher powers. To do this is to abide in the realm of the eternal, to walk in the path of the everlasting to follow in the footprints destiny. But of course, I am still weak, and it is so hard to let go. Somehow a part of me thinks I am big enough to meet these strands of fate head one. Even now, as I gaze out the window, and barter with the universe, I wonder about letting go. I wonder what it is like to fly. 

Stars by the pocketful...

He considered himself a stained-glass window. And this is how he lives his life. Closing no doors and covering no light; he is the multi-colored glass with light filtering through him, in many different shades. Allowing light to shed and fall into many different hues. His job is not to direct anything, but only to filter into many colors. His answer is destiny and his guide is greatness. And there you have him.

A very simple recent learning: almost nothing important that ever happens to you happens because you engineer it. I found that destiny has no beeper; it always seems to lean trenchcoated out of an alley with some sort of 'psst' that you usually can't even hear because you're in such a rush to or from something important you've tried to engineer. Turns out, destiny is usually just around the corner. Waiting like a thief to steal away your plans, and replace them with its own grand design. 

Just like snow on a beach...

One night a few moons ago,

I saw flecks of what could've been lights,

but it might have just been you.

This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen,

I searched aurora borealis green,

I've never seen someone live from within,

blurring out my periphery.

I was sunshine, now midnight rain...

Always rooting for the anti-hero...

It's so easy to think that because you can't do something extraordinary, you can't do anything at all. And I've fallen into this trap many times. Small steps seem so ... small. Not monumental enough of shifts to make your heart race and fill you with adrenaline. And then it's easy to decide that if you can't overhaul your entire life in one fell swoop, then you might as well just do nothing. Dealing in these absolutes has been quite the trait of my journey. Often times it has led me to places I never imagined, but also got me stuck in voids without escape. Now, as there are but pieces of me left, I guess what I'm hoping for, is that starting from here, with what remnants of myself are left, I hope it's just the beginning for me. And that all these small steps, might lead me somewhere I've never been. 

Pierced through the heart but never killed...

Tale as old as time...

He leans into life. Even now, even when he's being hunted by shadowy figures, he gapes at the streets of his hometown, he lights up over the knowledge that the universe is listening to him, and continues to plan his grandiose life - as if it is coming true any second now. It's not just about the end goal for him; he wants to come to a place, where he can enjoy every moment of this fleeting life. Where he isn't in a hurry to get home, or in a rush to be alone. Where he isn't the one looking out the window, but enjoys being in the room.

Being gloomy in the fall isn't something new to me. It goes together with parts of me dying as the leaves fall from the trees and their branches become bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But even surrounded with all this decay, I know that there will always be the spring, as I know the river will flow again after it is frozen. And I am quite certain this is not the end of me. Not like this. Not from a cascade of impulsive decision. I am more than that. My story deserves more.