My love lives far and longer than the roads. In a world where to breathe is to fall in love with the beauty of air. He lives in time.
I could imagine him right now counting all the things he should be thankful of, maybe. Or perhaps he is in the middle of the night on hands and knees asking his dear self why does he had to live in this world full of troubles. But all I know, and for sure, he is thinking about the purpose of life. He is looking for answers and in the halfway of shoveling years, our souls will meet. I could picture it in Museums or Libraries but I know we don't share the same interests.
I will bring destructions, but I pray not but paradise.
I will never know. But it won’t matter because I left. He would ask why and thought that love is more lethal than cancers but he will survive. He is too optimistic so he will wait.
We both waited for the years to pass by.
He doesn't live in time anymore. He lives in memories that never really happened, promises in the making. And then he found me. We were supposed to feel regrets because we wasted our whole lives waiting and now we are here at almost the end of the story. We both thought, "This time we will take the roads." The time left for us may be short but we won't rush.
This was the first time I found the beauty in breathing, and was the first time he found the purpose of life. We both live in destructions and paradise we found along the pace we took, but we were too optimistic so we kept on trying. We face death with hands locked as we turned dust and came back to the Creator of life.
We knew life before we live. We knew death before we leave.
4:00 PM January 24-26, 2017 /IMM