Silent steps that recollect our past
10:38 p.m. 2004-12-01
These empty streets are constricting. Solace through solitude, why is this idea appealing to the insufferable and the deluded? Half-steps and uneven sway, this snow beneath our feet is recreating the ripples in the pond that defined my tragedy in the reflection of tired eyes. This path is wide and the trees on either side are blinding our eyes to the glory of the celestial landscape that transcends human differences and portrays our souls in the scattered stars. They wrote that serenity was waiting in nature, that outside the walls and outside of society is simple and we could discover who we really are. He wrote that he was alone but not solitary. I am solitary, the moon overhead has faded away behind rent clouds plastering the night sky. But I am not alone. Her face is a hallucination on the edges of vision, and her voice is haunting me. In my present state, standing alone on this hill overlooking a city lit by dreams and electricity, my past will not stray far away.
Its a peculiar sight. Behind me, the houses are dark and foreboding. THey are only a few feet away. And yet, it seems they are a million miles from here. To either side the world falls away, a steep fall awaits and the forest beneath is eery with the melody of whispering wind. Ahead of me the sky is gaping in an immense expanse blanketing the world. Looking hard enough, one can faintly discern the shape of passing cars, solitary bodies enclosed in machines. Inside, men and women alone with their thoughts struggling with the prospect of a monotonous tomorrow. In the distance the city unfolds. Blistering lights and searing fumes; the product of human toil. But the sky is all that matters, overlooking this life with a sense of eternity. Stars like teardrops, creating meaning in our existences since birth, spread a faint light across the black nothingness of space. Satellites and airplanes careen across clouds, fragil and unimportant next to the brilliance of the moon. Sitting on this summit, captivation is the allure of the sky overhead. It is seducing, it is everything we ever dreamed of.
The unobtrusive scent of fresh rain and pine dulls the senses with a delicate intoxication. A winter chill caresses my face and numbs away the cares of another day. Lost in the stars my thoughts wander along the causeways of familiar memories and can you heard the synapses firing. Conflicting emotions and a surreal sense of detachment summarize this night. A million things are going on and they promised that we would find meaning here. But life is not as simple as all of that. I sit alone at the top of a hill, but memories and imagination fills the space around me with the people constant relocation has left behind. Gazing at the sky, reveling in the chill, it is hard not to consider the consequences of my actions. Analyzing the things that have passed long before, I wonder what things would be like now if coincidence had been different of if we had all made different decisions. Arising from this revery, it is inevitable to conclude that none of it matters. Living in this moment, I live the life that my choices wrought. And in all honesty I cannot say that I regret any of it.
The walk home is nothing more than the echo of footsteps cracking ice and creating indentations in the fresh snowfall. The falling flakes, enamored with my warmth, settle around me and lick at my cheeks. Above, the moon watches in silence. This is just another night, and tomorrow, retracing these footsteps I know I'll feel different. But for tonight, the conclusions reached are final and definite and maybe sleep will come sound and deep.
-these letters to you-
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