Cross-Post.
I’m feeling extrospective, perhaps not a word, but with context it’s applicable.
As I wander down the street, looking up and seeing many windows dark, it’s the ones that still are lit that draw my attention and my imagination. I want to know what keeps them up, what they are thinking about, what perhaps are they listening to, or watching to spend the time. Is that time something they are hoping will pass, or is every second something they hold onto not wanting to miss a single one?
Nothing is permanent, but we only ever seem to realize this until the sheet is pulled out from under us. It takes a wondrous set of conditions to make anything last for ages, much less with it’s intentions intact.
So what is that window lit for? I reach out and can touch the drapes, but the voice behind is silent from my distance. Strain as I might. So what’s the next best thing I can do? Reach out through space and listen by speaking. Echoing others minds with my own words, perhaps to unlock a brief response, something jarred loose in knowing I am curious.
So yes, with a moment, I look to find a moment, as water to water, as air to air…
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