Still

You can still love someone, even after a million years, even after you’ve found a million reasons not to.

And you can travel far, as far as you can to see the sun rise thousands of miles away, out of the sea like a golden god, rising in a high arc across heaven.

There are a million places to go, but when it’s in you, when it is you, it comes with you and will not be bleached out by the scorching sun. It cannot be burned away nor drowned in the ocean or frozen by the driving rain as you walk home from work. And it can’t be disguised, dressed up in the face of another. Not convincingly, not for very long.

It never dies, never, never, never dies. Just stays there like a silver lined hope, no matter what.