That stupid slow pace that hits
life sometimes when you're not fully around, when maybe you're not listening or
maybe just sitting back, like sitting in the back seat of a cab, a long journey
across a bridge when it's such a long night you don't know if it's closer to
morning or midnight. You tilt your head back a while and think, nothing there
but that same slow pace, like there's an answer just waiting for you to get but
you're not, because you're stuck dragging something heavy, dragging it all the
way, that story of your past, that one story, not all the other garbage, this
particular brand of garbage you remember more than the rest. You look out the
window, barely no start in the night skies, but street lamps and headlights, as
the road curves ahead you can see the lonely reds signaling a future that looks
just like before. But there's a genuine feel, just beyond the glass you rest
your head against and think, a genuine feel of something or other, you don't
really try to grasp it, because how it feels isn't something to pursue, to
understand, or explain, it's just there for that one moment about to pass, all
that's left is to close your eyes and soak it in before it fades. Because hey,
the rest of life is just smoke, traffic jams and clouds of smoke, green means
go and red means stop, but yellow, yellow is always there, and you don't know
what it means, too scary to run, and you can't just stop every step of the way,
wishing it really was as simple as green, red and dark, but yellow is all you
got.
One endless night, one we're not
supposed to survive, one we're not supposed to fight. We are meant to know,
find for ourselves which road is wrong and which is right, because it's not
that end of the road we seek, it's not the morning's light, it's us. So I'm
glad, I'm glad we still get those moments sometimes, moments where it's no
longer about choices and mistakes, it's more pure than that, just a blind feel
and a deep breathe filling my lungs, one more smile in such an endless night.
