That Last Chapter.
Each page ends full of colour, whole,
harmonic.
Beautiful,
but strangely melancholic.
I'm in the best seats in the house but also the actor in this story,
on this stage.
Feels
like the end of a great chapter and the imminent opening of an empty
page.
It seems life is simply...
An ephemeral state of being, with ever changing meanings
that you can never fully grasp for they keep slipping into the past.
I don't know about you but I'm just a phantom.
Floating in-between pages, in-between stages.
Not really being remembered by any of my favourite places.
Memory full of only barely familiar faces.
Watching people wasting life in their semi-detached 4 bedroom cages,
safe, warm, in comfortable stasis,
while I have to step on and once again face up to changes.
Because that's what a drifter does, that's what adventurers do,
leave everything in the past, and strides alone into the new.
After the big red sunset there's the great new dawn
and I know life is all about stepping forward, moving on.
I really am curious about the next new page
but man it fucking hurts to end a really good day.
But I suppose with every new chapter that's the price we have to pay,
being left with nothing but memories from yesterday.
But accepting changes, it doesn't have to be crushing
because being left with memories. Well, at least that's something.
