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| Land of Glory |
You are me and I am you.
No wonder they frowned when they heard us. We hid and chuckled. They didn't find it funny. Not funny at all. We hid for a long time. We chuckled for a bit but then cold wind struck the windowpane and made us shiver, a looming sense of dread washing away our giddiness. Perhaps we were only meant to hide.
Perhaps they believed we would never be apart. And yet... You are me and I am you, but something shifted when we moved away for a long time. Well, you moved away. I stayed. I always stay. I am the lighthouse of your delirium. I anchor you when stormy weather pushes you ashore.
One day, the lighthouse will not shine to keep you safe. One day, it will just stand, mute in its darkness. And then you won't chuckle, not even for a bit.
You will look for me in the house we grew up in, a house with tall windows and heavy curtains, their birds and butterflies frozen mid-flight in eternal immobility. I will be there. I will be there looking through those windows, watching you. And you will believe I am still the lighthouse.
You will try to tell me all about your adventures and your new friends, contrarians all of them, of course, and the photographs for the new book you swear you'll publish next year, you must come to the party, it'll be wild, promise, promise, and I promise because I am still here.
Your tsunami of words pins me in place, as motionless as the birds and the butterflies. Yet, my thoughts drift away. I am me and I am no longer you.
You still chuckle, just as we once did a long time ago. One day, you won't, not anymore. I... I hide, certain now that I too must move... away from them, away from you. Just away from...
Sprint @ The Writing Place,
