So it is. All trials are only circles. The hurricane falls into the shore, mingling sand-surf-beach-rocks-electric-air, the false lull before the plunge. The innards of the ocean throws up a curtain of sleet that spreads like a comforter onto a king-sized bed.
"You can't rush destiny."
No, I guess you can't. Just like you can't sail around a tempest, for if you did they'd still ask,
"Why were you late?"
And you'd have to say, "It was because of a storm."
Then they'd ask, "It must have been bad?"
And you'd have to say, "I don't know. I sailed around it."
No you just can't rush destiny.
The moment of not understanding is an opportunity to learn.
-- bell hooks
I love that all our things are mingled together, love how your stuff is a-clutter, crumple towels, jeans, and bras. I love to find traces of your passing when we're apart, love the way you're spread on the floor like a cyclone.