Meditating on time, memory, and the helpless beauty of letting go...
Instead of treating the past like a courtroom or a trophy case,
I treat it like water, something that flows through me,
shapes me, yet refuses to be held.
The ordinary sits beside the monumental,
and both are given the same weight,
because both are true.
I ain't chasing a clean ending or a neat moral,
just trying to make peace with the fact that everything I have loved,
ruined, survived, and celebrated keeps moving.