Again and again I ask, why does my heart keep beating? Why does my mind keep going round in circles, spiralling out of control?
It started with hello, hi, it’s gonna be ok. You’re not alone in this. Simple words, black and white on a digital page; it didn’t have to mean a thing. The words turned into conversations, breaking down the cliffs, waves breaking and rising over their edges. They swelled and crashed and made beautiful noise, drowning out the darker sounds. The clouds parted, storm departed, thunder faded and lightning made way for brighter days. An empty heart was filled with hope, desire, longing, wanting more. Empty eyes suddenly glowed in your reflection. Piece by piece the parts came together, fitting so easily with one another as if they’d known each others’ pattern forever. Their meaning was obvious, but still the fragments were fragile. The bonds that tied them together were still setting, seeming day by day to grow stronger, but not yet guaranteed to hold. Beating in synchrony, harmony, musically, a symphony of lust and wonder, changing into something more with each movement, they grew and wound around each other. Two hearts singing the same song. It seemed so perfect, so easy.
The world is strange and vast, working ever its spell, writing its story. We are the players, the pawns on a chess board of green and blue. We try to determine our fate but always there is something weaving in between the pages and writing the words that we do not control. The pieces change and the parts won’t fit. In a moment they fall and scatter, and picking them back up seems impossible. They become heavy, disorganised and unstable.
I stand alone surrounded by broken cliffs and blackened sea, watching the storm grow around me. Somewhere beyond the horizon I know you’re still there, but you’re out of my reach. The clouds grow thicker and I’m spinning. Spiralling. The music has stopped but I can still feel it’s tune running through my veins. Hold onto it. Close your eyes and listen. It’s still there. The orchestra is still playing, somewhere in the distance. You only have to follow it’s song. Let the waves rise again. Let the storm blow over. This is not a game, you are not a pawn on a blue and green chess board.
A word was spoken and its meaning was true. What was meant for you was not to pass you by, nor I.