ranged coldly on shelves
March 17, 2002 Sunday - 21:39
the last silent moment before plunging into the abysmal emptiness, the final quiet before the raging storm, time suspended in the sad warmth of night and eternity, sparkling with heaviness and light, and then -
his name i often invoke, like a spell or a charm, and a pain that is spoken of. i say i feel it. maybe i do, but only because i have described it. it is unreal.
sometimes i see a picture of him and me. i see him smiling, and i know it is a smile just for me, because the photo is mine and nobody else's, not even his, which makes his smile mine. and i feel like i did not even know him. who is this stranger that i am looking at? who is this creature? i do not know him. why do i not recognise him? why? is it because he is so much a part of me, residing in the intimate places of my mind, that when i see his smile out in the open, it is too much? why can't i recognise him? this person in the picture, he is not the same as the person i think of. or is he?
there is beauty in eternity, if only we can see it. but our lives are small and petty, and the grandeur and magnitude of forever is lost in us. there are moments - standing on the beach, looking into the night sky - when we feel it, a part of what it means to be endless and infinite, but it scares us, and we draw back into ourselves, afraid of the beauty we have witnessed. and we go on with our minute lives. and we forget, that even though we do not - cannot - acknowledge it, eternity still exists.