Reverie from childhood

Sepia shades, burning warmth and serenity.

Ample laughter, playful goading.

Futbol thuds against a window, then onto my chest.

It drops briefly – I gleefully launch the ball high down the street.

The youth scream with delight, continuing their game farther down narrow walkways.

Eventually it’s relatively quiet. Tranquil.

Reverie continues, eyes closed, random soft footsteps on the weathered cobblestone.

The gulls coo gleeful enchantment as the Bosporus beckons its majesty and beauty.

A rhythm of song and sounds that highlight the piquant embrace of my magical city.

The palette has changed, yet streets are familiar.

Smiling within, searching for clues in a mind of decay.

Still resides, however distant – more work for revelation.

Punchline reveals what I already knew.

Stop and listen.

Still.

Listen.

Their laughter remains, reverberates throughout.

Gull’s calls remain a musical pun to the relentless auto horns.

More laughter.

I almost trip as an errant Futbol rolls before me.

I attempt to nudge it back to the anxious yet patient adolescents.

My coordination fails me.

I miss, stumble, but fortunately catch myself against a resident’s graffitied wall.

One compassionately smiles as he comes to retrieve my miss.

I am tired. Hollow. My drive has escaped.

I had yearned for the light.

Daydreamt.

Wished

Or did I?

There was comfort in the darkness.

The anguish still debilitating. Humiliating.

Many understood. But not all.

Loved ones bore the brunt.

He understood and struggled until.

And now me.

Cycles of life

Cycles of light.

For the blessed

More darkness.

The welcome invitation?

Succumb again and swim in its madness of despair.

Enlighten the reality of an all-encompassing truth.

The failure was real. As was the invitation.

The choice has logic.

Rational rectification.

Inevitable deep slumber will erase the errors of trying.

And eventually forgotten.