At some point, people stop looking for love. The waiting for those moments of which fairytales are made, stops. Life is simple – just be present. Every day, as routine as life can get, until this person arrives; this someone, so familiar. No, it’s not a love at first sight. It’s a feeling of coming home. Everything, the touch, the warmth of the skin, the way the lips form a smirk, before the mouth chases that smile out of hiding. It’s the way the hand moves to fit perfectly, as if molded for that exact moment. It’s magic, right? No, magic is spontaneous, but this- this is not a deja vu moment. This is a tranquil place, where a sense of calmness feels the mind and heart with the affirmation that every road not taken was shrouded in meant to be.
Thoughts of yesterday encouraged wondering if, when, or why things happen as they do. Not knowing is painfully sobering and it makes every memory so lucid. Perhaps, it was an illusion of time? Wrapped in those arms was a place time didn’t exist. Nothing mattered at any moment- not today, yesterday, or tomorrow. Nothing other than being present with you. I’ve never felt so alive. Nothing could restrain my heart, nor could it be released- not even by time.
The peculiarities of time occur every day- each day it’s getting there early or running late. There’s something about the exact moment when this beautiful soul comes along; time ceases to matter. The hands of time echo loudly now, and the days and nights have become haunted by holding on to yesterday. And the only feeling left in this heart is hope. Perhaps, you felt it too? I pray if you didn’t, you will; you feel a love so great that no amount of time could ever be enough, but you’d give the last five minutes of your life holding on to whatever was offered. I pray when you awake with the timekeeper, you pause, and feel. After you have slipped on your watch, and make the drive to work, you wrap your hand around your coffee cup, and you feel it’s warmth. I hope it brings peace -quietness I know you need so much in your world. Most of all though, I pray you feel, me – still.
Touring from the Park Bench 