You, dear one,
who had dreams and ambitions to change the world. To correct society to standards conjured from perfect idealism. Or at the very least,
to be extraordinary – never normal, never conforming.
It was all about novelty and flux, the disdain for the routine, pride on acting different, thinking different from the homogenous bourgeouis. Admitting the sense of ennui that supposedly engulfed us all –
Yet at times being overwhelmed by the sheer joy, the sheer excitement or intellectual challenge of matters or scenes that would pierce through and completely contradict that theoretical fog.
Then, you would just lie there, impressed by the wonders shown, dreaming about what else might be.
You. The person who didn’t mind seeing everything from the refracted rays coloured through the glass of your heart. Images saturated with light, naivete and optimism,
Capturing portraits of people not for who they were, but for who they wished to be.
The one who could appreciated the hollow,hard-sought façade started in youth, vigorously built and defended brick by brick.
To you, it was no matter that it enclosed nothing of substance. The beauty, the idea of it was what mattered.
What happened to that heart, the one with enough courage and trust
to fall in love, quickly, deeply, for the absolute wrong person.
The one who actually believed its not who, but if we loved enough, gave enough, nothing else would matter. Who didn’t bother with guarding itself
Because even if it did break, it would burst into a million brilliant fragments, blazing like flaming asteroids streaking stardust across the night sky, creating a poetic spectacle wonderful to behold in its passionate intensity.
Then, it was also okay to follow your heart.
To go off chasing pigeons, hugging trees. skipping down the streets, giggling under your breath, gawking wide-eyed at the sky with no thought given to how queer an image that must project. That didn’t matter.
You were full of enough passion to fuel flying half the world,even half the universe away. Excitement and ideas of escape keeping you soaring free, without any baggage of apprehension whatsoever. No past to tie you down, no notions of the future to force you to stay true any course. Course, what course?
The future was a vast mystery.
Then, you asked for nothing
but for there to be empty roads up ahead –
space to get lost and find your way in,
and enough adventures for us to commit the follies and foolishness of youth.
Where are you, the one who I was.