Mind the gap.
I’ve always fallen under that pretense, but never really seeking what it means or what relevance it pertains to me. Carefully treading water until the tides direct me to shore, finding solace in what waits for me on the rusted sand. Handing over a previous life to a beach house once built, the old me closes the door and waits for sunset.
Each and every day, the time we allow to pass by us is a gap that grows, and within every gap holds estate for another bed of roses. Love is the water required to prove the grass is always greener, and past this house is “the other side”. Leaping forward while looking down in terror, I mind the gap. Equivocally speaking, I have made it across to the other side.
Conflicting circadian rhythms dwelling inside my body re-align themselves as I traverse the greener fields . Hours turn into days and the gap grows larger until finally, I am unable to see the faux-facade of my now-faded house. Even through the thick coniferous where I once stood in wandering, I could hear the pain and deafening silence of the transition. Never ignore the gap, for you might miss the white rose once grazed upon. Glory is that very white rose I have found and obtained, and a new life begins as I hand it to you on the other side of the gap- but will you accept it?
