Younger souls

I saw Lolita Friday and cried madly--I became unglued and sobbed.

It was an utter sense of despair--a reminder that only fate reigns and we can do nothing. And methinks I cried because I was reminded of my own impotence.

My world would shatter if I were to find that the search for bliss is in vain, and all our efforts and passion dissolve with the setting sun, and we'd become grains scattered about the sand dunes.

To form part of that large mountain requires a small piece of ourselves, left behind with each moment, brought to life by each memory.

I continued to search for all those small pieces long after they'd fully given themselves up to the grasp of the past. And I only searched because I believed that no small part of me should be left behind anywhere.

The snow falls heavily outside--carried by the wind in one particular direction. Birds flap their wings against the silver sky. I stopped looking for him--stopped longing, I suppose...

He's left a small part of himself somewhere in time, as did I. I wonder that, if venturing into the Forest of Wonder at midnight, the small parts of our younger souls would be heard laughing and falling in love--perpetually.

Out of one-million moments, only a handful yield vibrant life and joy...enough to fill us with hope for an eternity. Only a handful--smooth pebbles of time's power.

No matter how tightly the chapter closes, I still recall the first moment the page was flipped.

aeka at 1:11 p.m.