I wish I could write the songs I dream. I wish my carpe noctem sense of liberation woke up with me. I’d keep it on my finger and wear it as a ring. I would laugh when I looked at it because a ring that means everything is not what I am.
I am what means everything.
I wish our days were longer and the sunset lasted hours.
I wish the sunset lasted one second.
One second and only a handful of people are able to see it every night. And for that one second those few people would be completely and whole-ly of each other. And the dates we remember, the weddings and babies, the numbers on our gravestones, they’ll mean nothing because it is all about the times you saw the sun run away.
One Hundred year old men will count their times on one hand. The few children, the ones the universe cradles, they will think it more than to see the queen, to be kissed by a president. Those stories will be the ones we tell.
And if you’re lucky enough to see it with someone else- there is no point in staying together. Leave each other. Walk very far in different directions and don’t you ever look back. Do this because even with the oceans and masses and foggy memories between you- you are one. You live in each other’s wrists. You’re tangled in their veins and soon enough those ghastly bodies will tire, and you’ll be each other once more. You’ll braid together like tinsel and you’ll get your chance to chase the sun away, give your moment to someone else.
Oh, to be them, to be the rings on their fingers, to sit on their eyelashes and watch a sunset last for hours…