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r e v i s i o n s
"there will be time, there will be time T. S. Eliot |
I spent half of a Sunday going through photos, my past, realising that what I remember is only the special moments, and with one of those moments revisited, I recalled in me David, after eight years, and for the first time since I thought that perhaps now I understand his worldview of loneliness, and understand the gift of warmth he spoke of on that night when we talked lying side by side, so now I can accept his attitude towards losses and gains, and I want to tell him he was right about it all, about six months alone in Alaska, about throwing coins from the window, as nothing mattered, except those fleeting moments we still got to share. And the pasts that could have been, he said, the chances not taken, and the blame on yourself, the only person always around for this life of yours, as there is noone to stand up for you, really, noone brave enough, that's exactly what he said, when we spoke of having the will to be there, be it a moment, some weeks, or even years of our existence. I cried first, reminiscing of what and who has been there, and cited "all the king's horses and all the king's men", perhaps for feeling somewhat like Alice, thinking of all the men in my life who either did not live, to begin with, or who did not love well enough, who did not speak, who did not advance, who did not act, let alone in time, who did not take responsibility, not even for their own, who did not move on, who did not commit, and who did not dare. Then, perhaps it is not them, really, perhaps it is my mistake. Or not a mistake at all, just a simple fact that intentions and chances, past or future, aren't nearly enough. And I cried because I have not felt this useless in a long time, surrounded by issues beyond my scope or reach. I have not been this bereft of an aim or a reason, or at least an illusion, and with special moments revisited, I now weigh loneliness from a new perscpective, one that makes everything seem so lucid and makes me think I am here only to pass. To pass time, thinking I have the will. What will it be then? Are we here simply to wait for time to pass?
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