is it really so far away?

If you think I don't miss you, you have more faith in my heart than I.

It's been almost one year since you went un-missing. Did you think that would save us? Couldn't you see how far gone we were by then? Already too far gone for salvation's touching grace. But you were always one for the heroic gesture served only when it could do the least amount of good, weren't you, Mr. Steward? That nobility of the unnoticed.

I still have dreams. They rarely alter. That same dirt road, that same beam of light, that same small sanctity of promise, of potential, of forgiveness and peace. What strange anomaly, the conception of the two of us at peace. At peace with what? With ourselves? With our trembling natures? With our teeming restlessness? What would we be, if not caged in? Bigger people? Not better ones, that's almost for certain. And I'm at a loss to imagine us bigger. Those two unflinching egos, forever at war with themselves. Could the world shrink so much, to allow that permission? Could my thoughts possibly expand further? Could they reach that height? Could they cover the sky?

Some part of you might find it interesting to know that I am happy- or rather, conflicted and enraptured. For once, yes, unsure, but perpetually enthralled by that unsteady grasp. It might be of some small comfort to know that I am saying yes again- to life, to the grand scheme, to all that is unfathomable. That I am again beginning to want that whisper of tiny nothings, those eardrop confessions, the measure of another's breathe, my own palm against palm. That I have found more again than just myself, than just you, than just the rupture and tidal ripping of your loss, of my own loss, of those universes we cannot contain. That I am slowly beginning to dream again. Of other dirt roads. Of others waiting. Of seeking something more than a solution.

Still, I wish I could share some secret piece of it with you, even knowing now, that it would never be you, it would never be me, and it would never again be us. But those fractures remaining, perhaps they could find something far above all this to cling to, and maybe there could be one moment- one solitary single step, that we could take together, in time and out of it. Perhaps we could forgive ourselves just long enough to revel in mutual adventure, in exploration, the in simple ideal of having let ourselves just... go.