'We never realise just how close we come to disaster whether in love or everyday life...'
My harbour lights are fading fast
soon they'll disappear
alone I sit in darkness
hoping someone might come near
though I wait, though I try
no one ever comes
and the feelings that I have flood over me
the river starts to run
We fly so close
we fly so close
sometimes we fly too close
Every place you run to, everywhere you turn
there are places that you know you should not go
but some bridges just won't burn
all my life, though I try
I cannot change the past
and the ghosts that come back to haunt you
make you realise at last
We fly so close
we fly so close
sometimes we fly too close
we fly too close
My heart is racing much faster now
life passes before my eyes
some things I see, they make me smile
some things they make me cry
so I look, so I try to find
a lesson I can learn
the passing of time hasn't changed my mind
and the ghosts I know return
You know we fly so close
we fly so close
sometimes we fly too close
we fly too close
We fly so close, you and I sometimes
sometimes we fly so close,
we'll never know how many times
we fly so close
we fly so close
I've been shown how close I've been. I don't know why, but other people's lives sometimes seem to parallel mine
in ways that are more than scary - more than prophetic. The events that happen that I witness could have been
a chapter in my own life. It could be me, moving. It could be me, saying a prayer and holding on for all I've got, just to survive the first horrible weeks of loneliness and bitterness, anger and regret. It can be me. It will be me, one day. Somehow.
But it's not me today. Not this time. I am just a mute witness, who somehow sees it coming every single time. I knew before it happened what was going to happen. Why? Because it was a scenario from my life that got cut somehow, but not after a rehearsal. Not until after I knew the act. And I could see it coming from a mile away, I knew it was the one scene that somehow got cut from my life, but not from the life of this person. And it feels so personal, and real.
I talked about it today. I've been an emotional basket case lately, and not only because a chapter in my life is coming to a close. It is because of my renewed committment to my own destiny and decision. Because of how important it is not to forget why I made the decision, if it ever was mine to make. Because of the unbearable lightness of being, which, unlike the characters in Kundera's book, I sometimes can see. The other path, of what might have been had I taken the other road. Because I'd walked that road in my dream, and my dream was real. So I know what I've left behind and what I've replaced it with, what I've chosen and what I have given up.
Does it mean I don't miss it? No. I do miss it, and I always will. There will always be waking dreams what will haunt my days. There will always be the thought, and the memory. But they are only part of the inside now, and not real. And if I tried to make them real, I would destroy them. I hope I never forget that fundamental truth when the time of my decision comes again, when the table has another spin, when the time for measuring love and life comes, as it does in the life of every person.