resolution

You know how it works. This is the way it goes, you and me and the rest of the world. Can you hear it underneath the silence? There, the beating of my heart between measured breaths, can you feel it pounding against my chest as it tried to break free? Do you know that sound? That sound in my soul, my heart strings plucked, crying out like a violin, delicate in the darkness.

There is nothing left of me you do not have. There is nothing left of me you do not know. We are in harmony, in dischord, in resolution.

[Written randomly a few days ago and forgotten. Found in a notepad file named "resolution" saved on my desktop.]

Aug 12/13 - The Perseids Meteor Shower

Tonight I watched the stars. I drove out to the country, away from the street lights and the glow of the city. The road was dark, a sleeping house across from where we pulled off to the side. All was quiet but for the whispers of my companions and the chirp, chirp, chirping of the crickets by my head as I laid back on a blanket and looked upward.

Overhead a thousand stars lit the sky, spread out across that great velvet tapestry like pinpricks.

Sometimes I think, if only those pinpricks were a little larger, let a little more light through. If only there was more for me to see, to take in. Other times I am so overwhelmed by what is laid out for me to see, it's like a pressure against my head, my heart. There is so much there, too much for me to ever know in a lifetime, in a hundred lifetimes. And so much more; what I cannot see is just as dear as the stars glinting above me in the sky, burning bright and clear and some dead, dying already as they shine for me.

[Half scribbled down the night of, after watching the Perseids Meteor Shower. Added to/finished a few days later.]