The days of our youth were relaxed and still. The taste of the clear evening air on our tongues, the calm and rhythmic rustling was so unyielding to change, you would swear that the sights and sounds of the summer leaves were carved into stone.
(more) The days melted into one another, seasoned with casual evenings on a trampoline under the stars, or cuddled in a blanket in front of an old movie. The taste of a pure summer was soaked into every surface we encountered: the delivery pizza and warm soda, the sour sharpness of the ever-cold pool, and the warm air blown in on weekday noons, reminding you that each late-night collected its dues in the cooked air of the next day.
And as the days continued, still and peaceful, we continued to look forward. We yearned for the peaks and valleys of adulthood, of love, drive, and responsibility. Little did we know how steep the climb would be to the summits, nor could we guess how cold the shadow at the bottom would feel.
Our hikes are now filled with unanswered questions, confusing terrain, the foulness of imperfect selves and imperfect others. We push on, while straining our necks backwards towards the cool breeze of our youthful plains.
We thought we would climb out of the darkness, that only summits and plateaus awaited us. As our breaths get quicker, our movements shorter, and our vision more blurry, we realize the toll and weight of our colorful pasts.
Is the journey is more simple if you keep your eyes forward? The summit feels closer with the lightness of an empty pack. But what will you fill the summit with if you leave your belongings behind?(less)
the days of our glory are past
now we sit,
peaceful Titans and aging gods,
wondering when our wandering days
slowed and stopped,
when time hung heavy
(more) when we regretted everything