Trace

Show me your scars
So I can see you have lived
Laugh and tell glorious stories of how each one of them came to be
So i can see you know how to live
Pause to take a moment. To listen. To feel.
As the finger slowly traces down the wound, the mind quickly flashes to where a hand traced down your face.
Was this the start of a new scar or the healing of an old one?
Either way time slows, freeze framing us all.
A picture for which the devil hangs on his wall to bring him peace and God keeps in his wallet just in case he is asked.
As I am snapped out of this day dream, we find ourselves in a moment that is past that in which we were, the obvious seeming so meaningful without understanding why.
All the while elevating us from the video games we were playing, up to the ultimate game we do not always realise we are playing.
But we don’t save seats here. Those that do, often sit and wait alone.
Here we banter, smile and talk to strangers.

I have found life is insanity with you, but am somehow sane because of you

- Sleeps