There they go, those people with their dramatic events.
Those lives that hug the leaf stained curbs,
that read like so many novels written with drunken pens at the beach.
You, with your delights and endless adventures. The excursions, the lengthy automatic replay of giggling and seeing puppies in clouds where bombs once flew.
Under the last firefly of summer,
Before the wet leaves of October,
with crayons instead of fingers and your neighbor’s excess zuchinni harvest where your guts should be.
There, in the sparkling stream – for the few moments that its brilliance lights up the night, you swear to a life different from your own. No more leaving candor at the door. Drag it all along with you to every moment for all of the pretend hours you have left. Living in an imaginary time frame, a deadline only for the most pious and true. For only those that can adhere to a philosophy and beg stars to fall for them.
And what if? What if you knew? What if you could imagine the rest of your days and assemble your character…..be the person you now think you should be.
There would appear a flaw large enough to crack the universe in two.
Can you not just live the life you have? Be brave enough to claim what you know, not what could be? Your character is as tightly woven as it can be and a life imagined does not appear as colored threads against the pale pattern.
It is just that…..imagined.
Stop imagining you are dying and live before you leave.