If, in some strange and cosmic way, there comes a time when
seven days are not enough, and all of the great minds in their
finite wisdom come to me, and they ask me to name for them
another day, then I in all my hollow glory would turn to them
and call it Someday.
Imagine, for a moment, eight days in a week: Sunday, then
Monday, and followed by Tuesday, with Wednesday and Thursday and
Friday, and right after Saturday, "Day Number Eight," the day I
call Someday.
But why, you would ask, would someone like me, with the
greatest of minds at the foot of my door, do so odd of a thing
as to not put a name on a day, but then rather a word, and the
word being 'someday'?
Think back, for a while, and look back for the day, be it
Sunday or Monday or further than that, when you looked to the
stars in the lid of your eye and said, "Someday I'll find what
I'm looking for, someday," and still you may wonder when
"someday" will come.
And now, thinking back, you will see that when someday I
give them a day, then that day will be Someday, and then in
the darkest of nights when the brightest of stars fail to shine,
we can always have faith in ourselves and have faith in the
knowledge that we have a Someday, and then in the deepest of
thought, we can all be assured that our "someday" will come.
PUBLICATION: Vortex, mid-June 1995, East High School.
HISTORY: A semi-whimsical writing sprung from my writing-intensive
summer holiday.
Notice how each paragraph is really just one long sentence.
Also, there's a technique I used with the words, to give them
that rhythmic "flow" as one reads them. I can't remember what the
technique is called, but I think it worked.
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