The Hand Encloses Empty Air

This becomes a distance that holds us apart, as though we are on the opposite banks of a raging river: unable to cross, unable to meet, unable to touch. We talk only of distances and the spaces between as though the words themselves can no longer cross these gaps.

Distance becomes like the distance between stars, unimaginably far and empty of everything, where all is silence and the words do not even escape our lips.

I talk of times long gone now, as though the past becomes more real the further away it gets. There was a time when I thought of what the future would bring, but now I think only of what was lost in the past.

Here and now seems no more real than it ever has. Just a passing moment that is gone before the hand can close around it. The hand encloses only empty air; the moment is gone and lost.

I remember you walking away. You will not remember me. I was there, just a shadow, up against the wall. I was there as a part of the world you just walked through on the way to the rest of your life.