For my friends.
There are those things in our past that never stop causing us pain. We can forgive a weak sort of repentance, but we never forget. The shadows of happiness that creep through the harsh and destructive memories are only the obscure likeness of dreams unfulfilled. Our naiveté that we would become one, died slowly. The cold reality is that this other, this being that we covet, exists outside of us and cannot by action or wish be changed without their consent. Time lost is not refunded and makes us all too aware that we have fewer moments left to toss aside for hope. With no mind for words we claim that love is dead or dying. Of course that cannot be true. What we wished for in the dream of forever was washed away with tears. The love that allowed us to sacrifice anything slipped away out of our grasp. We grieve. Marking our failure we claim that it’s not them. Somehow, through this grief and realization, our hearts begin to imagine how we might someday be happy, so we fly.