To be old and white
and not ashamed to walk in the rain with a black umbrella,
to be obviously painted in white
like an old-fashioned mill,

so white that even the white cherry petals are
too heavy for the crown of your head
Such as you look out of place
compared with other people, with the red cars, with the rain
inside children’s nostrils

you keep on walking, wise like a tin toy drummer,
bringing to life the whole orchestra,
waking up those who believed they were awake,
you are the white of the paper
upon which the world wrote a masterpiece
and erased it

In this very moment, just like in all others, the whole world is falling apart while being built up all over again. We are all, during every second of our lives, dying while being born anew at the exact same time.

I had heard this, maybe even understood this before. But I had never quite felt it yet, until the moment I was letting him go, while falling in love with him again in the very same instant.

Our love died and blossomed, our pain stung while being resolved, and the connection of our souls was captured in time, so that it is now equally unexistent as everlasting.