I miss her. I miss him. I miss them. So many that have left by now. I crave them and feel the voids they left in heaviness of air and darkened light. I was thinking I might be soon going to go wherever they went and was getting up each morning in some kind of dread that had to be fought through until the sun came shining through — it always seems to. Now I am getting up to meet the enemy and finding their absence just as disturbing – I wish I could call upon them to speak about it or to divert my attention with the love that surrounded us. But at least I am not dreading — I am fighting and feeling some kind of purpose.
We all need a purpose.
There is one I think he and I would be saying, “See, I told you,” to each other in the agreement we always seemed to come to. I think he would somewhat delight to find that he hadn’t been one of the stupid monkeys. I speak to him in the air and say, “See we told them but they wouldn’t listen.” He doesn’t answer back but I kind of feel his spirit and imagine that he pats me on the back and says, “It really doesn’t matter much because it only matters what you know. Live your life with the knowing that you know.”
I still wish that I could speak to him this way and that way or any way I want to and know that he would never hold any of it against me since he never did.
I miss knowing love in a present moment or that it will show up at my gate in the not too distant future. But then again, one never knows. Some kind of luck may have it.
It’s a terribly slippery slope we stand upon and the hardest part to reckon is that some don’t see the slope at all — they even see a hero in the asking to reduce ourselves to ghosts.
The only rebel I can be is one only I see. I can speak about it but only those with ears to hear will see and then, just like my dear, departed friend would likely say, “It really doesn’t matter much because it only matters what you know. Live your life with the knowing that you know.”
Would he have said that or would have I?
Who is the enemy?
Image credit: Chaos is order yet undeciphered/Enemy
Writing Spool 