Do not pray for Love.
Pray for Time.
The cruelest thing about Time is that it selfishly persists ever on. Time has no means to understand that what was yesterday, is today, no longer. It brutishly powers forward, ignorant of your attempts to quell the tide.
Time has no idea not too, too long ago, someone made you feel light and hopeful; shiny as a new dime. And while everything has returned to the way it was before him, nothing is quite the same.
And though he didn’t stay long enough to move furniture, or leave little this and thats behind; while there’s no abandoned and re-appropriated, over-sized tee shirt to cloak about your shrunken shoulders; no smell of him clinging to air or sheets–a vacuous, empty space, molded in the likeness of his frame, moves about your house like a specter; touching every table, chair, wall, surface like a stain.
Time is both benefactor and robber baron.
It lays expansive swaths of moment before you like an afghan, inviting you to lose yourself in the eternity of it all. And only when you are secure in the warmth of covering does it rescind itself, begging your pardon while taking its leave.
Do not pray for Love.
Pray for Time.
Because no matter how desperate the entreaty, how earnest the plea, Time advances. Moving you so far away from that briefest of windows where hope ran wild and uninhibited.
Let not your head be overly-concerned with love. Love is too extraordinary a measure for the ordinariness of us.
And though it is beset on all sides by enemies–dejected, bitter apostates of every kind—Love bears it out, a stronghold unto itself.
So do not pray for Love.
Pray for Time.
But should Time grant you Love, mind its temporality. Do not restrain it, track its movements, cluck disapproval or furrow brow when it dares dip south of your estimation–for it surely will.
Rather, say, simply:
Our moment may be brief.
It is wasted with talk of fate. Neither do I care to consider that which is destined or pre-ordained. I do not know that I believe in all of that; that there is enough hope left in the world to even dream a scenario whereby our paths are inextricably bound.
But in the hush of night, when all is still, you are the answer to every question my heart asks.
Your name is the benediction at the close of each breath.
I do not want to do anything, anything, except talk to you about nothing, and everything, until however long, whenever is, forever.
I love your writing. I know you hear that a lot.. but I do. So here’s to you… and this screen shot I’m bout to do so I can open this and read it whenever I please as a reminder. LOL.
This is a winning post! However, I will say that upon certain key advancements in genetic tailoring and nanotechnological research, we (as a species) will achieve clinical immortality, thus beating Time in the game of progression.
But then if you can live forever, is there room in such a life for love? Hmmmmm…
snaps
Reblogged this on mslovedsomuch's Blog and commented:
Good read
Easily, my favorite entry.
That afghan-love imagery, though. One of my favorite posts.
Le sigh. You should do readings, ma’am.
“But should Time grant you Love, mind its temporality. Do not restrain it, track its movements, cluck disapproval or furrow brow when it dares dip south of your estimation–for it surely will.”
loved that line.
maybe it’s cause i’m pmsing. maybe it’s cause i’m in the middle of trial and hate everyone. maybe it’s cause i moved fairly quickly in my “love fairy tale” and still get freaked the hell out by it all. but this shit gotta thug kinda choked up. dude, timing is everything. eeeeeverything. and for those times you’re actually lucky enough to have an intense connection with someone, you gotta go all in…cause if it gets cut short for whatever reason (moving away, one person loses feelings, death, whatever), all you wish is to be able to take hold of those last moments/good times you had with that person and make them last forever. and you can’t. admittedly, it’s really hard to live by the message of this post, because it’s so easy to fall into being crazy and hesitant and over-thinking shit…but i think for people who can truly commit to appreciating the time over the love, them mofo’s save a lot of time stressing and get to just enjoy a little more of life. you may also crash and burn–*knocks on wood* lol–but hey, at least you enjoyed the fuck out of life in those moments.
caveat: i saw “The Matrix” one time, and didn’t get it because i can be dumb, so hopefully i’m not butchering the message of this post and talking about something completely different. i’m very capable of doing this.
anyway, your voice still sounds like butterflies and makes my coochie thump. so there’s that.