Poetic Prose

I’m listening to a song that I listened to a million years ago. A song I felt so deeply. Its rhythms were the beat of my heart.

Or so I thought.

It touches some distant memory but it feels like nothing. A touch of nothing like a touch from me. It was nothing. It’s gone. It never really was.

I think of myself on the beach in thought. I travel back to another time, another beach. I think of all the times I’ve been lost in thought on beaches and I wonder if they ever really happened at all.

Or maybe they all exist somehow simultaneously and in unison. One deep thought or memory or experience (is there a difference?) brought on by the vastness of the ocean compared to my tiny existence.

One moment of feeling deep or connected that I keep reliving and believing that it’s new.

Even so I still have it wrong. And I always will. And I always will revisit this idea of revisiting some other idea.

I’ll keep thinking the same thoughts over and over as if they’re new.

Except for the ones brought back to me by a song. It seems they can only be unlocked by that particular tune.

It’s only in those times that I’ll think of you. Only in those times that I’ll know it was real and wish that I could believe it never really was.

 

Photo by Harpal Singh on Unsplash

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