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Diadrom
The dew on the grass chilled my toes and it occurred to me: sometimes you just know, don’t you, that life is worth living for. Because sometimes it doesn’t feel like it, and breathing and acting and moving is too much work; but then there’s a moment like a midnight walk and it’s clear that there’s a reason for the pain and a method in the madness. I walked nighttime fields, and I didn’t need to make a sound because the glory of the night was plenty and the darkness would have swallowed my words. Under silver starlight I saw visions of fairies and those thoughts that swarmed my head. My life had seemed so empty and lonely, but just then I was free. In shadow and light I saw a boy on the grass — teenage romances, so swift to pass, and that was him, there, walking alone. Pages and papers tumbled in silver shards, and it was all the work that I had ever done and had yet to do swept away in nighttime breezes. Ghost followed ghost in the night, and they were there yet so trivial and so far away. Oh, how simple it all was! Those young worries were only dreams on the wind, shimmers to the eye, and I thought my feet floated over the grass and wildflowers. My nightshirt caught the wind and I was cold, yet what the body felt didn’t matter. The realization warmed my mind, at least, sustenance enough for that moment if nothing else. How clear it was — how well I understood. That I was a child still, and a goddess, and the night was musky sweet and more than enough to justify the pain of living. To feel silver on your skin — doesn’t that make pain worthwhile? To drink the light of the moon soothes the poison of life. The vast meadow makes daily worries so small and so light, and the diamond sky is greater than it all. I live for it, those moments when a thousand stars shrink the human to just a thought, to just a moment, and the cosmos is visible. Yes, it is worth it — but my toes will dry soon, and the scent of honey flowers will fade, and I will forget it all. Back to the dullness, back to unhappy certainty, back to that life that now seems so far away. Oh, but now, my tears are moonlight. |
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Diadrom
Daidrom: (Greek) wandering 8.24.02 406 words |