a nearly wasted day
My house is generally quiet, or at least quiet enough so as to be able to appreciate the more subtle noises of the moment ...raindrops falling, the passing cars and a not so subtle occasional train.
I'm here, alone with my thoughts and these sounds, wistfully yearning. Yes, these vignettes of time are especially more succulent with a lover, languishing away in bed, naked under covers, shielded from winter's chill sneaking through the drafty old window ...and yet awash in its soft kind light
...wrapped in each other's bliss and immersed in sensations, both novel and familiar
Every detail I create in my mind, blending fiction into memory. And I wonder, as i often do, how, if ever, those moments might return in anything more than my mind. How could I possibly be revisited by that magic? How could my present and perpetual crazy life ever make space for another sublime memory to be created?
It's just another sad truth of our humanity. Youth fades and innocence becomes complicated. And though age has certain perks, I find little comfort in the notion of someday becoming a dead man with wisdom and memories ...at least for now. Certainly I know my drive will someday give way and I'll just wish to let go ...but not now ...not yet. Languid days spent in bed with a beloved may yet be behind me, but there is still more than enough of this life to entrance my fascination.
..like moments such as this ...as i watch myself age before my mind
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
actually, i am, but how does that relate to this?
...per chance a member there has some sort of holodeck technology i could borrow to help remedy these torrid moments of ennui?