Tag: Poetry

There’s a certain feeling that comes with distant memories, moments in time that are so long past, they no longer seem real. A feeling, not emotion, because although this feeling is close to sorrow and joy, what comes through is an odd sensation, something in the back of the mind reaching out. And when more memories arise, that same feeling grows, but not in a rush; rather, it emerges silently with an ephemeral nature, so quick, you feel as if it never happened. You try to relive that feeling, and sometimes it comes back, but once the memories pass, the faintest traces of them left behind, you’re left with an emptiness, as if you’ve gained the knowledge of the world, only to know nothing in an instant.

Just beyond the periphery lies a world hidden to those without the keenest of eyes. This world shimmers on the seams of past and future, leaving the present to sway back and forth in an unstable dance. It is a tangle of images that cannot be forgotten once noticed; its ephemeral nature leaves one enamored for a lifetime. But it is nothing more than a mirage. In spite of that knowledge, we believe it to be more. We want it to be more. Such beauty, such mystery, a world of its own. We resign ourselves to its wonder and imagine what could go on within its border.

I feel safest in the late hours of the night. No one but the shadows can see me. Those looming companions wait quietly as I drift off into a world of my own. They don’t judge or distract, they only watch. In the darkness, I feel the least alone.

The sunlight streaming in through the glass-paned window sets the living room aglow with a deep, blazing gold. The air is bespeckled with dust that barely drifts, just floats, it seems as if time has slowed. In the morning, when the moment is just right, the sun performs this fleeting spectacle.

It finds a way to capture time. It seizes those ticking seconds, melting them into a blur that seeps into forever—until it is suddenly gone. Those amber rays disappear just as quickly as they appeared. You wonder whether it ever began, but you know it will come again.