Before,
for forever, I didn’t care.
Good that there’s an ending,
I thought.
For an ending is a new beginning,
like nights that get short and long again,
like snow that melts into water again.
like leaves that fall and grow back again.
An ending is the start of something new again,
or so I thought.
I changed my mind when,
I saw more endings.
I saw that everybody has an ending,
I saw the fresh flesh peeled back revealing the same structures underlying all endings.
How fragile,
I thought,
I wish I had known earlier.
I changed my mind when,
I saw endings as partings,
never isolated from the other.
One left alone,
withered and afraid,
the other still attached to the one alive like necrotic growth on healthy tissue.
I changed my mind when,
I fell in love.
Now I want forever,
not for me,
but for us to be together.
But enough about me,
for your forever is surely different from mine,
are even you old enough to be afraid of time?
Do you wish for forever like me,
or are you maybe more carefree?
For those more like me,
I ask,
what would be enough of forever for you?
I wonder,
is it a hundred more years,
or two?
A decade,
a century,
a millennium or more?
And what if we could make it there,
watching the world go past,
trapped in the tumults of time,
watching our great grandchildren grow up so so fast.
Perhaps you’re one who likes things just as they are,
with one life assigned to one person,
no more, no less,
nothing else left to address.
I understand that too,
but just imagine,
twenty more years on you:
the morning when you first spot smile lines on the realms of your eyes,
the day when you wait at the doctor’s office to hear your results,
the months spent with your loved one when you will soon be left behind,
does forever sound more appealing then,
I wonder?
All in all,
the fact of the matter is that no one is here forever,
alone,
and more importantly,
together.
So nowadays I dare care,
because I won’t be here forever.
WAST WRTNG 