they say that repetition allows something to lose meaning. i can see how this might be true with some things. after a while, sunsets become meaningless, homework becomes tedious, life is just a chore after chore after chore after chore, it's simply a bore.
but i cannot see how the constant sound of your soft snores and how tracing the galaxies on your back could ever tire me. how could seeing the star-bright shining of your eyes paired with your sweet smile ever stop making me feel as if breathing the fresh air is a gift, that feeling anything so deeply is nothing but a miracle?
i can see how moonlit nights and crashing waves are a thing of beauty that nature chose to put -like you- into this tricky thing called life.
life...
is a funny thing. it will fill you with sadness, heartbreak, hope, love and euphoria. it will hand out war and famine and death and it will stop your breath to the point where you never thought the smell of smoke would be sweet, it will make your bones ache from holding the weight of the world up.
never stop thinking that each sunset is a reminder of the coming day where you can experience everything again and again and again. until you realise that repeating is just repetition if you don't allow each soft snore to go by without a content sigh at the sight of pure peace that lies before you. if you allow each sunset to fall by in a blur of reds and purples and pinks without noticing the feeling of bewilderment that washes over you at the sight of nature's colour palette and art show every night.
i'll tell my little one that nature painted every star in the sky to watch over them so they'll never fear the nighttime and revel at each nights new canvas. their eyes will shine to see what each night has stroked across the sky for them and they'll sadden when they hear of the tale about the moon and how it gave half its breath to the sun so it could shine but because of that they could never meet again, always missing each other by just a whisper of time. i'll hold their hand and tell them no matter what life gives out that they never ever forget that
"your shadow is there to tell you that you're real and days will pass in repetitions of rising suns and falling moons, of clouds and constellations. it's just a matter of how you allow those sunsets to sail by, of how you let that war and famine cry for help. life, every day, is a repetition. it's just a matter of how you let your life repeat.