Sleeping On The Train

It doesn’t matter.

This is the mantra. For the purpose of today, tomorrow and the near term future at least, this is the mantra, for this particular situation. The past is not yet the past. It is, but it isn’t. Time will grade the relevancy and reveal the viewing angles that have staying power, any attempt to affix values or labels at this point is short sighted. It won’t be what it was, which is a shame. It won’t be what it is now, and that’s a good thing. It’s too hard now. The corners are sharp. Time I imagine will erode the rough edges, leaving behind the perfect lines that feel good in my hands, like coarse hair in the night.

So many questions will remain unanswered. The hypotheticals of yesterdays which ring in my head now may find their low water mark and wash out to sea, caught in the undercurrents of events I can’t yet imagine. Perhaps not. Perhaps the swirls will bring everything back to rest on the fringes of what lies ahead. She may always be there, in the froth. She may dissipate in my mind the way I seem to in hers. I simply don’t know.

I repeat, it doesn’t matter.

Some things are attainable, some are not. This classification, attainable, is devoid of modifiers. It is rigid, firm. It has no tolerance for adverbs or adjectives. What it lacks in satisfaction it finds robust in truth. This is simply not attainable.

Time, the real modifier, will yield access to the ever changing perception across the timeline. The schedule isn’t mine to control. I am a passenger on this train. At some point I think I’ll enjoy staring out the window, lost in thought, remembering, smiling. Today however I feel like closing my eyes, allowing the brief history of what might have been to fall behind, out of sight.

I don’t know where I’m headed, but I know I can’t stay “here”

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