One day, my friend,

Big arching windows will be made of what now, to us, may look like walls.

And you, I can promise you this much, will forget to even think of it all.

 

The very air around you will taste somewhat sweeter –

Less heavy, less hostile, and way more like home.

And I promise you, my friend, for as long as the two of us are alive, you will never be alone.

 

The sky’s blue will look that little bit more alive,

Oh, everything around you will sing songs out of that never-ending glint in your eye.

 

It will invite you outside, away from the nest of thoughts that burrow themselves in your head:

But you will forget to think of him, or of her; you will think of all present gifts instead.

 

One day, my friend, as you will ‘most certainly find,

After setting, all suns do rise, and when they do, they know to leave all considerations of dusk behind.

 

Perhaps today is not that day; perhaps it will not be tomorrow, nor was it yesterday.

But in this reality, at least, things do not have a habit of staying still: each and every single thing finds a way –

 

To adapt; to expand; to exert God-given will – to break free from comfortable albeit constrictive shell.

One day, my friend, pretty campfires will be made from what now feels quite like walking bare-bodied through hell.

 

We will build our stories around it, toast marshmallows when night comes, speak fondly of all these times that felt, when they were here, so very dark.

One day, my friend, we will sweeten our tea with long-gone memories; the past will be recalled with ease, over a walk in the park.