Stay where we are
There is something comforting about the night. When passing through a forest of only fractals and shapes of the dark, there are only white branches dimmed by the coldness of the winds. The hills are sketching their bodies while being sound asleep. The fields of only grass are nurturing the return of spring. There I was, looking at all these riches, breathing in all the good and the contaminated. Though having a place to come back, I wish to stay longer inside this immense comfort of a late winter night. Though the warmth of a young fireplace is attractive indeed, the cold wind is also so assuring like a place you’ve come to know for a while. They told you I might not be the easiest thing to love, but I’ll be patient. I’ll be remaining here until you see my soul, until you are persuaded of my interrupting presence. I am here to remind you that the seasons are here. I know you are scared: that even that might change someday, that even your comforting night will be forever gone, and that collapse will be the new stability. I know there have been circles of change, but maybe none has left. Maybe we still got time.
