not all who wander

But then it passed, as all things do.

The feeling that something is missing never, ever leaves you - and it can’t, and it shouldn’t, because something is missing. The missing part, the missing past, can be an opening, not a void. It can be an entry as well as an exit. It is the fossil record, the imprint of another life, and although you can never have that life, your fingers trace the space where it might have been, and your fingers learn a kind of Braille. There are markings here, raised like welts. Read them. Read the hurt. Rewrite them. Rewrite the hurt.

Really important meetings are planned by the souls, long before the bodies see each other.

Stars, too, are time travelers. How many of those ancient points of light were the last echoes of suns now dead? How many had been born but their light not yet come this far? If all the suns but ours collapsed tonight, how many lifetimes would it take for us to realize that we were alone? I had always known the sky was full of mysteries - but not until now had I realized how full of them the earth was.

by jamigreenfield: