A quiet world,
alive and well with golden hues,
her stunning mist and crisp air
Blossoming buds, awakening life
in the birds and in the trees,
in the breath of light’s breeze
Revive to this life
and love, each anew always
endless are its possibilities
I oftentimes have to remind myself that I’m at this place in my life where it’s okay to be a complete mess. I’m still trying to figure things out; I can’t be expected to get things right on the first go. If I do, that’d be a wonderful blessing that I’d be entirely grateful for. But I like to believe that the journey to the destination is just as important and edifying as the goal that I’m reaching for.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;But O heart! heart! heart!O the bleeding drops of red,Where on the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead.O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;Here Captain! dear father!The arm beneath your head!It is some dream that on the deck,You’ve fallen cold and dead.My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;Exult O shores, and ring O bells!But I with mournful tread,Walk the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead.
Driving home from your house just now, something changed, or clicked, or fell into place. I’m not sure how to describe it besides to tell you that I put my hair up, rolled down all my windows, blasted your playlist, and watched the city lights glimmer through the trees.
It happened when I first saw them. Distant, but warm. Welcoming.
And the lights, they reminded me of you and the way you untangled my hair from my glasses and how you’ve had an inexplicable craving for lemonade. And I felt optimistic, like we could be more than a sad story to tell and re-tell ourselves in twenty years when we’re feeling especially alone.
God, I don’t know how lights can make me feel all of this. I mean, I suppose it’s not the lights. It’s you.