(no subject)
In the tumult of an evening's reunions, we come to an old realization, as though we've always known, as though we've been present for each other's weddings and births: it can be neither created nor destroyed. But we know at the root, it must be shared. So in the meanderings through flung elbows and fists, men and women dumped unceremoniously on their heads and shoulders (with the greatest of care), we take the time to embrace, to kiss cheeks, flirt, and celebrate together: this is our youth, we claim it with renewed longing.
The worship ends. We dissipate into our lives, having co-experienced a boisterous beauty, a jarring bedlam, as though we were born into it, born out of it. The uninitiated gape, coveting this intangible that they know must have passed hands and lips invisibly. The transmission is incommunicable.
Our legends, our heroes praise us, embrace us, kiss us farewell as we evaporate into our own winds.
The worship ends. We dissipate into our lives, having co-experienced a boisterous beauty, a jarring bedlam, as though we were born into it, born out of it. The uninitiated gape, coveting this intangible that they know must have passed hands and lips invisibly. The transmission is incommunicable.
Our legends, our heroes praise us, embrace us, kiss us farewell as we evaporate into our own winds.