An Old Book

     Books could always be considered invaluable, full of knowledge filled top to bottom with knowledge about us, our world, our universe. Always there to recite you their contents full of wisdom. At times they answer our questions, sometimes they provide us with laughter, and can even help us escape our monotonous life and help us travel to different realities.

     However have you ever stumbled across a book in  your grandparents attic, or its in the farthest, dirtiest corner bookshelf of a library? Perhaps an old medical journal, a thick history book, or an antique wrinkled leather bound encyclopedia. Did you by curiosity open its pages, felt the passage of time on its yellowed pages? old ink, mixed with years of moisture in the air gave off the scent of the time this manuscript has.

 All the knowledge this script should have to tell provide you with. you eagerly anticipate early findings of the progress of humanity, however in this case everything you read is outdated. Pages filled with misinterpreted facts, tall tales, and wrongly proven theories. This book that at one point someone would come to achieve answers, is all filled with debunked theories and myths. You dare to call it "outdated," "useless."

     Well reader, I happen to be that book. I spent countless hours recording everything that there was about her. The diameter of her smile, her adventures in this world, the recipe to make her heart skip. Her entire ancestry and possible connections to noble bloodlines. My brain contains pages redacting my journeys across her skin, as well as countless attempts at bringing her close to Nirvana.

     I can recite you her biography, better than my own, and you could get lost in the words that created my story with her. I'm an old book filled with anecdotes of her past, and all the knowledge that I have became obsolete  on the day of her departure. My wrinkled leather bound soles are about to wear out from searching a meaning without her, and the scent of old sea water is nothing but dust from my salted tears. All these pages about her, and for her bound to the spine of my heart. All these chapters recorded, all useless after her departure. And of course lets not forget the blank pages that were saved to write a future together leaves me as an incomplete, obsolete, and forgotten manuscript of her.

Timeflakes

Have you ever looked at snow when it begins to fall in the winter?

Gray skies in contrast to white cold small feathers made of ice, slowly floating in the firmament due to a gentle wind rocking them back and forth.

Each of these unique snowflakes suspended in altitude dancing around me, as I stand in the midst of it all. 

Suddenly I lose track of time, I lose all my senses. It's just me and these flurries of snow around me suspended in time.

As I catch a frozen fragment; I noticed its' shape, unlike any of the other fluffs around it. And it melts away with my warmth touch, gone now dissolved and running down my palm dissipating into nothingness. I yearn to see another of these cold diamonds and capture a second one, the same happens and it  scurries down my palm. countless were the attempts to catch and keep a snowflake, when finally a gale flew across and broke the  spell I was in.

As I return to my senses I realize the significant amount of time spent in my pursuit of these snowflakes and it hits me just just as cold as the winter air, that I spend that much time if not more trying to catch all the memories I have of you. each memory as unique, and small as these flurries of ice, each flake a small fragment of time spent with you floating the gray colorless sky my mind has become, always dissipating and reminding me of your absence. whereas in the case if the snowflake melting, I find tears scurrying down my face. and while the gale awoke my senseless pursuit of snow, I wait for something that will return me to my senses from my pointless pursuit of you.