People

Through walls of silence we call out for love, reach a lonely hand through the mist, and bring it back – empty; lonelier than ever before. There is a part of us which can never be, a void than haunts us through loneliness, a vacuum that will never be filled despite our hopeless prayers. We are just people hiding all the need inside. Like children, we need other children. We were born half and can never go through life alone, never fulfil our dreams without something else, someone else.

It is dark, darkness enclosed by sky, enshrouded by trees, suffocatingly close. The moon was reflected off the glassy water, almost as perfect as its parent; like a mirror it repeated the glow, echoed beauty. Then suddenly, in one careless moment the mirror was shattered as, in someone’s arms she was carried out from the depths of the moon, her wet body glistening, limp and dead. She had found her other half. She had toasted her reunion with the sun.

With every step rekindling our yearning taste for life we will be left to recover in silence. We can only be whole for a little while, that is all we are granted. We cannot argue with nature, cannot change the beat. We stand warned, we have been told. It is for us to forget, for us to go against the possibilities set before us, to attempt to become one of the chorus. We reach out through the haze for something solid, in which we can place our trust. A hand holds our hand and lead us through the mist, and when we emerge from the other side we see the world behind us and that the hand is a child’s hand.