Have you ever been a part of something so blessed that when you took a few cold-dark-hallway steps away from it so that you could look back at it- that you were forthwith ill from an impending notion of your own foolishness for having been a part of it at all? I do not mean regret. This feeling is not rising up because you partook in anything particularly naive at all, but because you invested so much of yourself into something with an impossibly short shelf-life. For all that you know, it could have been one of those cans tucked in the back of the pantry waiting to carry you through an earthquake... presumably indestructible.
Fortunately, I have found, that those who gaze back at memories and ponder their own foolishness are rarely the ignoramus they suspect themselves to be. Rather, it is the one who does not detect the irony of lost love who fails to walk down the hallway at all. But alas, fools or not, both are left victim to such contradicting impulses and sensitivities. Gratefully, I presume that there are plenty other self-supposed fools walking halls... maybe even one who understands any of this at all... I'll keep my eyes open.
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