In the end we only have pieces of the puzzle, and no matter how we put them together, gaps remain.
Oddly shaped emptiness mapped by what surrounds them, what surrounds you, what you try to fit there. Rooms in your head get dim, clocks on walls tick on, people die. The past and the present try to meet up and make a deal, but what if they can’t? Does a piece of the puzzle you fought really hard for get taken away? Do you get left behind?
I looked out and saw my father, alone but not alone, in the hazy twilight of the night.
Sometimes wandering is better than a place.
No comments:
Post a Comment