I would rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach 10,000 stars how not to dance.
Quit leaning into the past. Like a shadow that keeps setting on your head, it’s dark. (Dark, not night. Night happens daily.) Dark happens in the day. Dark is when you close your eyes to sunlight to chase a moment that fled. This moment is named Miranda. Miranda eats dark chocolate until she is half-full. Miranda takes pictures of herself and places them in your apartment. Miranda under a lampshade. Miranda in between the pages of a book. The pictures are half-torn, her left eye always missing. Miranda places the other half on the other side of the world in boxes with the wrong labels. You sift through one called “Future” and find a thousand other eyes shaped and colored like Miranda’s. Miranda’s eye could be anyone’s. Your eyes narrow in on a photograph. The harder you squint, the more you miss. On the other side of the world, Miranda’s eyes are not missing. They are closing and rising every two to ten seconds, adjusting to the present light.