Timothy

the sand line

sometimes you meet people and you get a sense of who they are, and sometimes you form a connection real or imagined, and you wonder about the possibilities that may or may not lie in the path you've decided on taking. Sometimes the road is less traveled, other times they've been roughshod over by a bands of roving troubadours. so, anyways, I met someone, and I'm still working out how I feel, obviously there is something there, or could be, or maybe even in a casual way, some flirtation of lust could or should be consummated but really, it's not in the cards, not today, possibly not ever, in that particular instance I'm actually ok with that. sometimes though, when you say a thing outloud, it becomes more real than if you just thought it and said nothing.

so. I've said nothing. I won't say anything. the line in the sand, remains uncrossed.

its more the things you discover about yourself more than anything that is really telling. I'm a fairly lonely person, I've cultivated this, dought, all on my own, and the friendships I aught to have nutured have fallen to the wayside. but, really, I find, that when there are those drifting off in the ether, I dont find myself fighting and I can't imagine why. I once thought it apathy, but it's not, cynicism, but it's less than that, and more, at the same time. my soul cries out in lament of it all, the imagined desire for something that was for all intents, smoke, the illusion of desire for anything more than, well, whatever it was I thought it might have been, needed it to be, or wanted, lusted after.

so. that is that. the reaper cometh, the price paid. I walk along the road, thumb out.