on our way

by practicalspactical

The story rises in us, secret fountains. I am still me. I am still in love. Time shifts a little bit more.

and yet – she reaches from beyond me — she calls to me as if to the bottom of a deep well — she throws me a ladder — I climb up —

our past is a ruin to us all — but more so, those, who let life slip away from them, who let time pass without holding on to it — who let people pass, without holding on to them — waters move