Excerpt from a short story: The Sun Is Gone

I did not want to leave you.

            I still love you. The problem and solution extended far beyond anything that had to do with us. But you are the sturdy rock that lies beneath the ground. The foundation for soil and nutrients and growth. I am a cloud. I am far up in the sky, from a distance appearing solidified, but just an illusion. A collection of water vapor.

            Tell my family hello, or do not; whichever will hurt them less. You can show them this letter if you wish, but I know you will understand it best. Understand it like that time on the beach when we were playing with the smooth white stone talking about our academic abilities and I went on a rant about not wanting to be a person of habit. You understood me then. You could probably still understand me now. Even though you did not want me to go, understand I did not go away from you.

           

            I do not know where I am going, but I am at home not knowing.

           

            The sun is going down here now and I would like to go watch it until it gets dark. I think that sunsets are overrated for their present state. What they bring with them in their transition, a black canvas with burning candles of light, is the true miracle. I saw an art exhibit once and it said:

THE SUN IS GONE BUT WE STILL HAVE THE LIGHT.

-N.X. Blume

We Have Lost Time

the time is going by really fast. days do not seem to last a full 24 hours. the hour seems to pass in the time that i spent in the previous hour planning how i will be spending the following hour. hours do not last anymore, they are simply 3600 fleeting seconds, 3600 droplets of rain that i never felt touch my face. forgettable instances with no form or function, just passing time, just falling rain. there was once a time when the time was everlasting and wholly meaningful. when my soul was a bright room with echoing walls and time filled it with the most beautiful, resonating music and bounced from wall to wall, soul to heart with clarity and purity. when each moment had a pitch, a vibration, a purpose, and a resilience.

what happened to time? we lost it and these days it is nowhere to be found. will it ever come back or did we drain it of its essence. had the last droplet fallen, and that too gone unnoticed and unfelt by us? even by me, who so sweetly adored time? perhaps even i only felt this sweet adoration in its absence. 

we forgot to savor time and it elusively slipped away into unreachable depths. 

we have a problem. 

we lost time. 

we are without time, yet time defines the extent of our existence. without time, we are nothing. there is no extent to which we can reach. 

we have lost time.

we have lost ourselves. 

-S.P. Scarlett