By in
No comments

I’m still figuring out my tongue-lashing for Congress.  For now, something personal.  – Marocharim

Robinson’s Galleria
8:47 PM

Years – yes, a long time – has passed since.  Many things have happened between us: alone, together.   I don’t know why you keep popping up like a bad nightmare, or perhaps, even a dream.  You’ve always been that to me, after all.

Long ago, I convinced myself that I might as well – and should very well – content myself with the memories.  Yet somehow, I can’t.  Perhaps I’m forever saddled with the memories of years ago until we get to talk again.  I always banked on the wisdom that if I let time pass by, the wounds will heal and that you’ll just vanish from my memory.  But the wounds never did heal, your memory never disappeared the way I wanted it to.  You lingered in the corner of my mind.  Lingered there, stayed there, until I can no longer ignore you anymore.  In a way, I banked on the foolishness of letting time pass by.

I didn’t talk to you for four years.  I was there, but I was never there.  I was the sun that stood still despite the clear blaring of the trumpets.  You were the red rope of Rahab that hung from the walls of Jericho, who stayed there despite the prophetic quake.

Pathetic, but true.  Wise, but foolish at the same time.  It makes me kind of wonder, but at the same time, it makes me want to holler.  For all those changes between us, I wasn’t witness to all of them the way I wanted to, the way I meant to from the very beginning.

You are the most beautiful never this side of the Milky Way.  Dare I say; I regretted every moment, and every minute, of it.  I seem to have forgotten… but things are never the way they seem.  Ever.

Wisdom, foolishness.  As Morpheus would say in The Matrix: fate, as it seems, is not without a sense of irony.

Alone/together.  That’s what we were, that’s what we are, and that’s what we’ll always be… and you’re still there.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *