I keep thinking I would stop.
I keep thinking I would never want to do this anymore. Maybe I’d give everything up. I wonder if one day I’ll look back at this instant, sigh while realisation crashes into me – this will forever be my biggest mistake.
I think we’re all wide-eyed as we begin, hoping to find treasure at the end of every rainbow, wishing upon unicorns and fairies and magic. I think our minds attune to the birdsong of the land that the symphony of the stars and the dance of light at the break of dawn are things our eyes can no longer reflect or even perceive. I think everything fades; the stardust in our bones, the glitter in our eyes and the shades of the hope that colours our souls. I think everyone leaves, even those who once stole from their souls for yours and shared their light. I think everything, the sun burning into our eyes, the wind rushing through our nostrils and filling our bones, the snow making our senses shiver with ecstasy, they’re all fleeting, they’re all in transit, arriving year after year, season after season, in a fixed circle along a fixed line, pouring the entirety of their souls into damaged vessels.
None of us have a choice, we’ve been stripped of the gift in the making, left bereft, left deprived, left wanton of things, of places, of people, of ideas, of aspects, that can, with some magic and glittering mayhem, make our eyes sing.