Sands of Time

For a moment, it seems like we have escaped the violence and our horrors and arrived into a mirage — an oasis. Like the eye of the storm, we are surrounded by disaster. We are spinning under all the points we keep tallying, all the faults we keep measuring, and all the cuts we keep bleeding. I could be in this world forever, if only it was real; if only this wasn’t an illusion. Is it an illusion? I don’t even bother waiting for your response. I don’t even bother asking, that would surely be the end of everything. How many years did we put into spreading us thin enough so that we could not break? I am linking all these threads together, hoping they can create something that could keep me warm in the whirlwinds that are speeding up, threatening to tear us apart. I am smiling at your recent mood, but I am secretly anxious. I am secretly waiting for it all to spoil. I am making deadlines for this peace, knowing it is a standstill that does not stand still for very long. Rather, it is an hourglass that is cracking, and all the sands of time are jumping overboard. I am contemplating running headfirst into the storm. I told you, I know what is real and not real. At least there, the chaos makes sense, and I know where I stand. This oasis is only a dream. This oasis is only a trap disguised as a blessing, but I don’t dare jumping back into the chaos, not while you’re still here. Maybe this is a dream, but still, I can be still here, with you. I wish holes would explode everywhere, that everything would explode everywhere, that I wouldn’t have to choose, and that we’d both risk everything and throw ourselves into the savage battles we paused in the disillusion that we were better off hiding in the words we never said.