The sun had dipped into the ocean and sizzled out its bright. And the sky was a bipolar devil trying to glow in the dark.
He was an old man filled with regret, and I a young man filled with dreams. But there was no wisdom or foolishness in the air, just the memories of the past; words of light that cast shadows of the men we used to be. And imaginations of the future, like seeds coming out of their shell, learning to trust the earth.
We were two sleeping dogs chasing dreams of grey and grave. And it did not make us bitter, somehow we both knew that death was our only proof of life.
When he said "If I am ever lost in this world, I will take care of my soul, but someone please take my body home", all I could say was "I will".
He was a solemn whisper kind of man, and I was the angel on the wrong shoulder telling him that every second Friday we have chicken in hell. But sometimes every bite is a basket of regrets you're hoping are small enough to slip through.
Sometimes silver linings are lightening and thunder is the sound your body makes when it hits the ground.
We were two cups of water, he was half empty and I was half full and even though people tried to convince us we were the same, we both knew that tomorrow he'll be less full and I'll be less empty. So today we spilled, guts and skeletons and keys to closets we've long forgotten where we buried.
He said his biggest regret was the wisdom of age, because an old man doesn't have a lot of days, so what's the point.
You can bank on the rising of the sun but if you have just enough yesterdays you can tell a wind from a storm, but it's too late to run for shelter.
But you are not me young man, you have the foolish of pride and the wisdom of time so stumble in the dark a little longer, don't wait for the sun to rise to find the light switch.
Don't wait for the smell of rain to build an ark.