fin

What is there to say? Not much, the same questions tumbling over one another. There is even less to do. You are standing at the edge. Here we are the end. Here we are in the middle. Here we are at the beginning.

We understood each other, perhaps that is a simple enough thing to be happy about. But people fade and become only time stamps in your past, sections of years labeled and crossed out.

The words that were meant to be meaningful were the last straw. The last complaint. The last sentence. People die and words die. Understanding dies.

It has never been good. It has always been wonderful. It may have been true or it may not have. Maybe that is not the thing to focus on. What do you focus on now?

That lake is still there, full of water. I have a picture of it from the past. The trees I saw are still living. And you and your smile, all of these things without me.

Here we are at the beginning. There is a new understanding, or a lack of one. There is another new language I don’t speak, one that is unlearnable.

Here we are at the end. Some things you can’t fix. Some things you shouldn’t. Sometimes you just need new trees and new lakes. And we go on, and we stop, and we begin.

 

 

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