There is something about travel that induces fragility.
Particularly in the spaces between.
I’m sitting still as the train passes by changing landscapes.
Each moment streaming by, images mutating and shifting in front of my eyes.
I think of the love I left behind in Taipei.
I see his face flash through the fields that flow by.
I see his body suspended in mid air as he melts into the morning’s gray sky.
I see him and the trees as one.
When the wind blows through their bones, they sway the same.
My heart aches knowing that we must live separate lives.
I will never know the tastes he craves or the secrets he keeps to himself.
I will never truly know who or what his heart beats for.
We get so close and fool ourselves into believing we can see it all.
This fractured human experience of coexisting among infinity while being wholly separate.
Confined to a body and a self.
I reach my eyes out past the train and wrap my gaze in these fragmented pieces of reality.
The beauty calls back and holds my heart in its palm.
As we speed further and further North.
To the foreign place that has slowly become Home.
The separateness blurs perfectly into One.
Each piece holding no resistance to itself or the passage of time.
It’s just here.
Responding, expanding, rotting and flourishing.
Side by side, simultaneously,
Separated by nothing but belief. ///