And what memories might occur in the safety of her mind as she's alone seeing the very same moon I'm staring at...?
And I prayed... I prayed that you'd be ok. I prayed that love and peace would pervade that part of your soul, seeing so many moons with me. And how beautiful those times really were... And I prayed that these memories would no longer bring harm or be poisoned by grief. But that they would set you free... Free to love again and believe. Free to know those feelings and those moments shared that you had love to give, and that you would love again, and greater so.
We are all loves gift to this world. I intend to foster that in everyone I meet for the rest of my life, as I did before we ever met. I should have focused on these qualities more before I met you... I would have remained kind in the chaos that ensued... Might have loved you better, it wouldn't matter at that point if you did as well. And none of that matters... You... Me... The moon (blue as it was)... All that matters now is the love we give in the costly parts of our lives. And I bid you the very best of journeys... Maybe our paths will cross again. I'm certain we'll be very different (or maybe similar) than we are now, if destiny or God chooses.
You be well, Sweet Soul. :)
PS: ... Miss watching craft movies with you...
2 comments:
Hello, this is a nicely explained article. Your piece was very informative. I had never heard the issue presented in that light. Thanks for your hard work.
social media management agency kl
The moon. Oh sweet moon. Her name was the first I spoke. Even before “mama” or “dada” like most babies. Maybe I somehow knew before I was born, that it would be she that would watch over me. Maybe she knew I would spend so many moons of my life alone. Although I have grown accustom to being alone with her, I do wonder, with much sadness, if someone will ever visit her with me. Is he is admiring her while I am? Is he alone, or maybe someone gets to share it with him? I wonder if they know how lucky they are? I sometimes pray that she will whisper to him, “She’s waiting for YOU. On the hill. Go to her. She loves you. I’ll light the way!”. And would he ever gaze at me the way I do at her? Would he ever watch over me the way she has? Or, will she be the only one to ever really see me, and soothe my pain.
Post a Comment