Echoes blur past me as I past these lights; the more cold that settles in, the more still time begins to feel despite it now passing ever so violently. I have long since begun to countdown the hours, even to the minutes that remain, like becoming an hourglass in and of myself – my obsession of the passage of time seemingly has no end. Skin exposed, and bones open to the piercing blade of this sharpened cold- I can finally breathe the wind carcasses my hair. A feeling I have never grown tired of, one in which I have adored ever since I can remember. It’s feeling is unmatched; perhaps it reminds us of when our very essence, our entirety would ride on the wind, or perhaps it is the closest feeling to how it feels to ride the waves of time, but not as a separate current, but rather part of the whole. Perhaps it is the very same feeling which floods us when we ascend, break free from the meaningless and monotonous cycles which have plagued this very reality to it’s core. Perhaps it is all due to the very feeling reminding us of what it once felt to be free.
To be free of my mind is a yearning that has come and gone like the very dying sun before us. Or like the very death of the summer, which has slowly begun to fade into a much darker sense of oblivion, like tail-lights drifting away during the darkest hours of the night. I often question if all that has happened, all that has led to these fleeting moments in this fragile time, has simply been the pre-cursor to the exit of this mind. For from the shakings, to the drifting’s, to the fear, and to the death of what peace remained in this mind of mine – to even now, the endless daydreaming that seems to even seek itself to remove me from this all, to take my by the grazed and pierced wrists, to perhaps place me in a place where I can ride the very waves that the hidden and mysterious corners of my mind yearn to experience once more – before becoming some different entirely. Because as this summer fades, and as these colors soon decay I know all that I’ve come to know will be no longer, for the prime that awaits me now shall be the last that I will ever know, and the ride that calls to me now shall be the one that would lead me home; so as this cold settles in and this violent sun seeks to pierce the last thread I cling to, like sanity, like will, like purpose – my hands reach below, whilst eyes fixated above, to claim what’s to come as it may as I embrace this final stretch.
