Just This, In Light

I am awake sometimes.

I don't actually choose what moment passed I will write about now. Usually the moment chooses me. I don't restrict them with chronology or importance. They are all important. They follow no creed or threat of credibility.

It's my campfire.

These are moments passed, now recalled, now reopened with clarity of perception that only distance and rest can bring. There is something delicate and meaningful in the things we choose to keep. The things that have chosen to stay. Remember it. Re-find it. It's why you kept it.

The truth is in the feelings.

I don't chase the things that have left. The things I've expelled. I am awake sometimes.

I'm not a historian. I'm a writer. The Words are all that matter, not the ending. Surrender. Absorb.
In most memories you can put a spotlight on one moment, and let that one moment say all that needs to be said.
With no obligation of completion. Just this, in light.
Just this.

For me.

I came to that fork in the road. And the life I did not chose keeps going and going. Living and living. With or without me. I am awake sometimes.

I don't love the story. I don't cradle the plot. I sleep only with The Words.
I have never loved anything the way I love The Words.

This is my love affair. This is the love of my life.