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A Moment In Time

     Right now, at this very moment, the current is turbulent and the waters are muddy.  Any certainty I once held has become questionable.  There is no doubt, I only know that things are up in the air.  And so I wait...  Situations unfold around me.  There's boredom in some places, and miscommunication in others.  The lowdown is:  "The times, they are a-changing".
      I spend most of this time alone, conversing with others at a distance.  There's no schedule, or habitual activities to engage in to let my mind wander and ultimately fall asleep.  I sit here with songs from the past, memories of those I held dear, and a vision of flames.
      "It’s all right for nothing to be wrong."  The familiar surroundings of unfamiliar things have been replaced with the all too familiar sights and sounds of what I've come to call "home." Nothing is more comforting right now, than music.  The rise and fall of a single note, followed by the hum in the air as the tone swells and fades...  It’s the auditory representation of what I see before me.  And then there is a click, and no sound.  I hear only the constant hum of this machine and the clattering of keys.
      I miss him...?  It’s funny to say those words...  I fought and fought to get away, yet I still would like to see his face, to hear his voice, marvel at his smile, and take in those beautiful eyes. There was such an intensity in him when he was angry, I could imagine that I could see the thoughts in his mind.  I could hear his inner voice screaming and yelling, I could see his mind’s body flailing and kicking, while he sat silent with flashing eyes.  Never have I known someone so alive.
      And I know too, that She and He; they are not ready to die just yet.  When I hear her talk about Her and Him, it reminds me of two other people I once knew, who are no longer.  I don't have the words to tell her the quiet end that comes, after much pain and a final realization.  This is something she’ll have to know on her own, without words and without a reflection to show her.
      The burning away of an old self...  Mistakes are recognized and wrongs are hopefully righted. And if there is anything that remains, it’s the knowledge that next time you will know what to do. It’s quiet in here.  I’m quite alone.  I’m like a person sleeping, waiting for the time to rise again. I’m waiting to see those signposts that are all around, that let me know when it’s time to get back up.
      I wait for the phone to ring.  I wait to hear that familiar voice, and I wonder what the tone will be.  Will he be happy to hear my voice?  Will he sound tired?  Will he be distant?  None of this matters.  I exhale loudly.  I have enough patience to see what comes next.
      It seems I should be taking some kind of action.  Maybe I should have already made a plan, and have been working to back it up.  But instead, I sit here at square one, with no plans, no foundation, nothing at all.  There are only ideas of what could be, hopes of what will be, and resignation to what has passed before.  I watch the comings and goings of life events like a movie.  And I wait for my part.
      "Run up the hill, do as you do, I'm gonna chill, you know you really oughta do the same... They wanna bug you, but we won't let 'em today cause its a sure shot the bomb droppin' every single day.  You know we swing it and we wing it and we make some sh*t up, but its just 1 2 3, oh...!"
      As usual, the phone doesn't ring.  It only rings when I'm busy and in the middle of attending to things, not when I'm silent and sitting and waiting.  I can imagine the joy at hearing the engine of a car wind down, the opening and closing of a car door...  I can feel the happiness at hearing quick steps up the stairs, the accompanying jingle of keys and change, and the friction of the door against the ground as it slowly opens.
      I can imagine a familiar hat popping up around the edge of the door, the familiar, dear face halfway hidden beneath it, and the wonderful sound of his voice saying nothing at all.  I can remember the brightness of his eyes when he’s telling me a funny story, the smile on his face while he’s dancing in the car...  He's wearing both.  He steps into the room, and I hear the same jingling.  He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at me.
      But wait.  I turn around, and I'm alone in the room.  And my thoughts pass to other things, from necessity.  A letter of shared thoughts...  I read it and it’s more like a disclosure of ones soul.  In between the spaces of each word there is a glimpse of something bright and beautiful peering at me, despite the sad words and heavy thoughts.  A long gaze into someone’s eyes could reveal less.  And once again, I wonder whether I will pass through alone or with another.  And if it is with another, where is this other right now.  I wonder what this other is thinking, and if he/she is wondering where I am too.
      How is it that I remember having a twin?  It was a dream, a fantasy of a memory.  It takes me away from the present time, where I'm walking on a hill with the sun peeking over.  The sun is almost ready to set, but before it goes it leaves streams of color trailing behind it.  Orange flows across the top of the hill, and purple hugs the orange, the jagged edges of its passing melting into the blue around it.  The clouds watch, unperturbed.  They silently and calmly drift along, changing ever so slightly with each breath of wind.  The hill is covered in green, with dots of yellow and white waving to the sun.  And I watch.  I don't mourn the setting of the sun, because I know it will rise again.  I don't fear the coming of night, because night is the reflection of day.  The hill on which I wait and watch is suddenly no longer a hill, but a line between the day and night.  And soon the line is a line no longer, for it melts and blends with what is on each side.  And day and night are no longer two different times, but one becoming the other becoming the other again.  And with this setting, I feel joy for what was, is and has yet to come.  Because now I know truly, "the deepest dream we have could be".

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