Habits

I saw you in a dream. I passed along a worn stone path. Broken bottles dusted the Earth. I told myself I shouldn’t follow. So I did. I ran among the debris. There you were. A lone man in a hollow suit of memories. You couldn’t remember the past not long before because you were never truly present. An empty conglomerate; holding space but not actively seeking the clientele.

I saw you once on a broken walkway. I was intrigued by your gypsy mentality. Our paths continuously crossed bringing us together again and again.

Sometimes I wonder: how many lifetimes have we spent doing this? Are we destined for these meetings? How many times have we been broken? How many times have we broken each other? How many times did we spend yearning for something we could never have?

Do we repeat these fleeting moments of creation in multiple centuries? Do we grow old with our children through multiple generations? Again and again? Are our souls recycled?

I fell in love with a man who didn’t want to be loved in the way I loved. I fell for a soul so tormented that I could not love him. He could not bare to share his eternity in the way I kept trying to find. Where were the ripped bits of his soul discarded? Truthfully, I’m still wondering. Patiently, I’ve been sifting through the silver sands of time trying to find a memento that could shed light on my current situation. But the bits are too small to put in place without a nudge.