An Infinite Mirage

I write with the twinkling of the night stars, peering out into the infinite universe above, and I wonder if the night will ever come bearing gifts other than those of perpetual loneliness. Perhaps the sky herself is lonely, her tears stream down flooding the city streets.  She is an open expanse waiting to be filled with more, a blank canvas yearning to be painted more beautiful, to be filled with something other than blue. If the sky ever became so deeply loved, maybe then she would overflow, showering some love upon us below.

Love. The ever illusive, unceasingly distant mirage, appearing more brilliantly beautiful than anything else in this world, and fading as fast as it first appeared. The magic that we all blindly chase after; the sorcery that has us all bewitched and befuddled. Immersed in the thick fog of confusion and utter yearning, we stumble senselessly, sensing its closeness. Yet as we draw near to the tangible taste of love, our hands slip through the fog, grasping nothing but air.
Yet I tell myself, if I can survive this sickness, than I can surely survive love. For how can an emotion be more painful than the deterioration of a body?


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It all began when I awoke on the wrong side of the bed, as people so often do. My body exhausted and my neck sore, I was ill prepared for the shift that was about to erupt throughout my world. It crept upon me with slender talons that scraped through my body with fiery ambition, and with the death of may flowers, the sickness bloomed. It flourished, it’s petals swelling from the inner workings of my body, bursting free from thin skin. It was cold, and deep within the core of my being�"I began to freeze. As the weed continued to grow, my soul began to wilt. The very vibrance of my being was thrown into the front lines, battling against the shell that it called home. I sat in the basement of the home that I had lived in all my life, and I wondered how one could live on, when the romance between body and soul was now dead; when one was fighting to live and the other begging to die. Cancer. Such a minuscule word that holds monumental impact.