Another ten-minute-break-for-whatever-holds-me-over-until-I-can-get-something-better-for-dinner night. From twenty stories grand, I contemplate twilight gracefully making her entrance. She swathes herself momentarily in luxurious tinges of royal purple, lavender, blue and pink. Quick to follow is a bittersweet exchange as she bids her rotund counterpart adieu and prepares to entertain her shadow companions in the ensuing hours til next light.
The mellifluous glow of air carriages emerge from her garments as they prepare to address striped destinations to liberate yet another exuberant mass of emotional greetings. I mark their campaigns reticently ... profoundly aware of the power they cleave ... even affecting my own reality. Two large-hand passings distance through these navigational miracles ... and yet, you seem a millennium remote.
My longing ventures farther still. This mooncycle will not prove a rite of reunion. Rather, it remains at issue. Toiling deep into eventide for the taskmaster effectively impedes blatant affirmation of my famine for your affection. "I'm missing you" stands as an unsubstantial representative for the density of my condition as it awaits your rescue from electronic banishment during some reclusive hour. I speculate if you will glimpse my devastation. A sigh. One last glance across the horizon before inevitable resignation.
Yes ... another ten-minute-break-for-whatever-holds-me-over-until-I-can-get-something-better-for-dinner night. Too worn to condemn the situation or indulge pointless fantasies that you may yet become my dinner companion. Full-circle. Desolation neatly tucked. Obstinance acknowledged. Another victory for the taskmaster it is. One less shared memory ... traded for a solitary moment ... though not my choice. |