The Middle

Lightning and thunder in the distant night sky. I once saw you in the promises of these things, or on a trajectory to me. I speak of a heart once heavy with love. How at the same time it was light enough to fly. Of how I wanted to whisper away my share of this cosmic grief in your ears. But other duties and obligations called you away. I no longer live in those frantic ensuing days. I do not live in the clouds nor in the dumps. Maybe this is a tentative hell. But I won’t paint your absence here. I tell myself I’ll live as Ecpitetus, unfeeling and somewhere in the middle.

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