Pain Is Not Wat You Get, It

I Know Already That I Will Return To This Day Whenever I Want To. I Can Bid It Alive. Preserve It. There Is A Still Point Where The Present, The Now, Winds Around Itself, And Nothing Is Tangled. The River Is Not Where It Begins Or Ends, But Right In The Middle Point, Anchored By What Has Happened And What Is To Arrive.

Even If People Laughed At The Notion Of Goodness, If They Found It Sentimental, Or Nostalgic, It Didn't Matter -- It Was None Of Those Things, He Said, And It Had To Be Fought For.

How Inevitable It Is; We Step Into An Ordinary Moment And Never Come Out Again.

Where Happiness Was Not A Possibility, The Illusion Of It Was Always More Important.

And I Suddenly Think, As I Look Across The Table At Him, That These Are The Days As They Will Be. This Is The Future As We See It. The Swerve And The Static. The Confidence And The Doubt.