Tide

Watching a leaf flap you can see it’s relationship to all the world.

With whose love was it that we found another side to ourselves, slow morphing thoughts, warm hands and cold cheeks, gently sifting through memories of others with someone new, dull colours that fade deep into the paper, leaves that hint to other lives, other existences, that paced the same areas, small practices of superstition, to keep those whom we’ve watched leave, stay with us… those we watched and our love for them in thoughts.

I know how it works, but you can’t help but wonder maybe if things had gone different on a particular day maybe we’d still be holding the same people we did before, it’s not about blame or guilt, it’s just about how fucking fickle the universe seems to be, how cheap life is in nature, and you end up feeling foolish, because you cared more than nature did, more than what providence was prepared to offer and the more people you talk to the more you realise that each person, that each moment, can only ever be important to a handful of people, hardly anyone noticed the loss, just you and a few others, so everything keeps going along, slowly day after day, and on each of those days everything is the same, except an integral piece is missing, but no one else seems to notice that it’s gone.