Thoughts come in one after the other, slipping in and quickly by. Some are tourists, some are occasional visitors, and others are regulars. I acquaint myself with a few of them, while some others I attempt to dismiss as they seem too grumpy and negative.
And then there’s you. Coming in day after day, minute after minute, and I can barely catch my breath and relish a reprieve. Before I know it, I expect your presence, yearn for it even, and in my heart I feel that familiar swell, one that I would never be able to stop, like a fast-moving train, crashing into me and exploding into millions of glimmering sparkles, warming me in hollow darkness, on the coldest of winter nights.
Yes, a few thoughts have become my enemies, and others have become my close companions. Yet you are the beauty in the tension, the thought I wish I could erase, the thought that I cannot get enough of. I want to push you far away into the distant heavens, but hug you close because I do not wish to imagine a space in time when you’ll no longer come, when your visits become sparse and slowly die away.
And there you sit, in muted reality, without a clue of what you really mean to me, of who you have become in my mind. As much as I have tried to fight it, you are no longer a tourist, or even a regular. You are so much more than I can even begin to fathom.