Where there is light, there is darkness.
Don’t forget.
I won’t, shouts the brain.
But you must, whispers the heart.
A set of streams catapult down the mountain, not at all concerned with passersby taking selfies before scurrying off to snap another. The sun peeks around a spot of clouds to cast a ray across the water main, painting on the rocky surface tiny droplets of water falling down its face.
A wise woman once told me that most people give up too soon. Too painful. Too much to handle. Instead of digging, they polish the surface until it sparkles. The root festers and dies, covered by a sheen of pretentiousness.
I take a step forward. Then a step back. I step on your toes. I push and shove unintentionally. I stumble and fall. I’m not good at this, and this time is no different. My heart grows heavy before it weeps in silence. I fold this moment into a million pieces. I hold it close to my heart before releasing it into thin air.