Beyond the veil

It’s little things. Mornings that arrive warm and still. Hours that pass like air through a breezeway instead of like an ocean through a bottleneck. The corners of lips as they flicker. New words. Old words repurposed. It’s not a sudden change, you only know you’ve left once you’ve arrived. In much the same way that spring overpowers winter, suddenly everything is different.

The world is so veiled for us. We’re not completely in the dark, but we’ll never really know. We’ve grown to settle for the small glimpses we’re allowed. We’ve lived so long in the dark that we’ve become comfortable existing in shadows. All we gain to make advances on this opponent we have so little sway over are won of our other senses, heightened from our blindness. It’s just little things. Stolen words, a brush against the skin, a surge of heat in the blood.

But I’m tired of casting lines from dark corners. I don’t want to cobble together pieces of half truths from a menagerie of coincidences. I can’t live like a pack rat, hoarding the little treasures I am afforded from here in this cloaked place. But that doesn’t make me oblivious to them. My heart flutters as they fall at my feet. Everything is different now, I say. I watch as little things line my path and I am contented to know that they’re there, and that they may lead me to something wonderful, somewhere beyond the veil.

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