Record

IMG_0273I find myself again at Woody Gap – the overlook at which I have spent many a night alone, and many a night in the company of people whom I love. I am unsure why I chose this place, of all, to come and write, and I am likewise unsure of what I came to write about.
I search for something. I feel a longing in my heart that, no matter how I try, I cannot feed. I desire, but also need, something that I cannot even fathom.
I know that it is intangible by name, but can be felt as real as any material thing. Perhaps it is love.
I do so crave a romance, but not like I yearn for this nameless thing. This conceded idea whose identity escapes me, is ever out of my reach, if only slightly. Perhaps it is my purpose.
I pave the way to my future, laying bricks, cementing stone. I enjoy the work and the free-flowing form with which I engrave this path. I look ahead, enough to keep from tripping, and look behind to admire and learn. Perhaps it is the present.
This moment that I am in, and each moment as it comes, then goes, is ever escaping me. Perhaps what I long for, is a moment that lasts. No, not forever, but I pray, dear moment, just linger… a moment longer than the last.

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