I would like to make a wish. I would like the UNIVERSE to lean against the milky way one day and pry
open my diary…and read each word I wrote, as I would have. I would
like to see through the eyes of the UNIVERSE, the ways of the world. Perhaps he
would be so kind as to commit my little words to his memory and long after I have
passed, he would weep for me, and tell my grand children, centuries removed,
that I once breathed the same air they do; that I once loved and I was loved
right back. He must tell them of my lofty dreams and the insurmountable
challenges I had to overcome.
Can I write my secrets on the palms of the UNIVERSE and then
hide that evidence in the crevices of his soul? Can this UNIVERSE pass on a
message to the future me? Can I please tell him that I am young and I am
passionate in every sense of the word? Can he know this about me? Can he know?
I am happy when it rains because when that happens, my
detractors see not the moisture that I offer to the dead in recompense.
Tell him that his blood will remember, so he shouldn’t worry.
The past that I create with each stroke of my pen, it will remind him of me,
because I am what he will grow up to be.
My words, I write, and send to the future me, in a time capsule,
so that when in the future, when I have lost my way, the UNIVERSE that has tasted my blood and is not stranger
to my tears; the UNIVERSE that birthed me and nurtured me to the person I turned
out to be, would with loving hand, show me the way back to the man I set out to
be. A good man.
