Time to leave

And at that moment, part of him welcomed the wait. He waited and waited—for her to call, for her approval, for her to control all his senses. The evening had almost arrived, he sat and he worked on another chapter of his life, what could be the final chapter. He had followed the path, at least the one he thought to be his, until one day he decided that he had given in to what the noise was commandeering him to do. The noise had brought him far, delivered him to the door of the weak, the greedy, the always wanting. He now knew how to say no, no more of the bombardment, no more of the watching. He was the watcher and he knew how to make the watched feel powerful, like they were the ones peering. The power was indeed good, and if controlled, benefited the enlightened. Knowledge breeds power and that is part of nature and our spirit is powered by nature. I can give you the energy necessary to rise up every day and say; “I do love.” The gift is now yours if you want it. It is not to be analyzed, nor is it to be coveted. The gift is here to be shared. From me to you. From you to them. It's been like this for decades. The time passes and it does not change. But the faces—the faces do evolve then they come around again. I say quiet is the key. It is so attainable, just sit and listen. A good listener has to be cherished even if you want to share nothing with them. But do see them listen in effortless ways. To find a way inside, you stay still, and through words, you feel. My eyes say that I am inside. You put me there; you need me there. With the surrounding world, you decide that you don’t want me there. Step outside for a moment, and see that what we want and what we need sometimes meet in battle. A winner will never rise up because some things are continuous. The circle of life. Can it end? The questions never stop. I know the answers even though I should not. They come to me often, sometimes I forget, but ignore I will no more. Accepting, can be more than what we have studied for. Endless work, yes but it is part of breathing, no more taxing. We've all grieved, in a way, let it soak in. I speak not for everyone. For some the weaving and winding will always take place. The permanent cannot be scorned, for many want to remain. Though not at all possible to me when I merely glance. Look, I see the music and understand that it is forever.
She called out to him. Of course he remembered her; she was the one that set it in motion. He wouldn't have thought that she would make it seem like she never left and that she remained a part of his life. His confidence, born out of his emotional journey with this beautiful soul, never stopped growing. Please stay was written with great hope that she would see what he saw. Yes, their worlds were different but he dreamt it possible. His dreams are different today but his thoughts remain the same. So many years ago—it has come back to him. No words this time. Just back to waiting.