James,
It’s been six years now love. Never thought I’d be writing to you again like this, but along came these cotton candy Maxfield Parrish skies and I am compelled.
I love how the clouds all roll westward in the evening as if they’re going home for the night. I find it comforting to imagine it’s under your power they fly.
Ya volando! (Up, up and away!)
The darkness doesn’t come
So much as the light goes
The time it does not pass
So much as the hands of the clock
Take their turn at the wheel
The world doesn’t spin
So much as roll along with the tides
Passing favors to the dead
Not so much gone
As new
Permeable shockwaves
Irresistible to those of us not left behind
So much as still learning
Not so much sad
As it is true
That love is not a thing to be celebrated
That there is nothing new
That we’ll keep failing
That the sun doesn’t rise
So much as re-enter our sight
But at least it does so
It’s something to count on
Something to believe in
When everything else is so
Dynamic, ever-changing
Impermanent
This too will pass