Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Just

There are no mysteries left. The sun is not God. The stars are not magic. There is no edge of the world. There are no more oceans to cross or lands to chart. There is nowhere left to explore.

The only mystery that remains is the mystery of other people.

Let me explore you. Let me in. Can we put aside the silly games? Can we be completely honest? Can we lay out naked in the harsh sunlight and allow ourselves to be judged, and yet still not judge?

I’m tired of the world. It is cold and dark and lonely. Let me escape into you. Let me know every inch of your mind. Let me touch every inch of your body. Let me feel every inch of your soul.

There is no perfect merging. There is no permanent melding. Only moments. Illusions, perhaps. I’ll pretend if I have to.

Just be.

Just be here.

Just be here with me.

Let me melt into you before we melt away.

8 comments:

Mr. Apron said...

You're right. The mysteries of the world are gone.

Well, almost gone.

Joan Rivers is still here.

I wish you would write more, but I'm always glad when you do.

xx Nicky said...

ditto on the "wish you would write more, but I'm always glad when you do"

great post

Scribbler said...

I promise I'll try to write more regularly starting Monday. Though I think I may be losing my ability to write. It seems the only time I write anything good is when I'm very angry or very depressed. I've recently vowed to try to be more friendly and less judgmental. I can feel my IQ plummeting with every conversation I fake.

ThePolkaDottedOwl said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
ThePolkaDottedOwl said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Scribbler said...

Polka, I got your message but you deleted your account so there's no way I can contact you. Please email me directly when you get the chance.

birdykins said...

Mmm. Only moments. I agree. I despise people who live their lives like they are never going to end. Mediocrity and routine that eat them up until they are starved of anything resembling ¨life¨ what a waste. I wish everyone could just be. But, then, I guess banks would never be open and nothing would ever get cleaned. I miss your writing.

boris said...

i like your idea of trying to write a short story everyday, hope it works out for you.

http://midnitebearino.blogspot.com/