Night descends. The dance ends. I lie on the couch, the weight securing me to all I have ever wanted and needed. A familiar song takes me home, makes me want to shout to the ‘blue summer sky’, to faraway times and places, to loss and letting go, to moving forward and away from all I have known and loved. Transported in the moment, I lose track of the lyrics, the magic transcends. “And we may never meet again”. The finality is far greater than the melody. There is no skin left to shed. Rains form streaks on window pane. Tears form tracks on salty cheeks. I hold closer. “And you will throw your arms around me”. My arms cannot contain the missing. She says “at least you got to say goodbye”. And she is right. Some time is unredeemable.

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
 

What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind

from ‘Burnt Norton’ (TS Eliot)

Throw Your Arms Around Me (Hunters & Collectors) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4H2Dl4bfySM