Often in life; the good days, the bad days, just days, I have found myself observing my surroundings, my life, my ‘days’. For something same, something constant.
Having something constant, during all your life will always bring you a sense of relief, when you’re hanging low or reaching high. Going through changes, constants are the necessities to keep us sane, to keep us human.
In the final days of your life, something constant always brings solace and comforts you, that maybe things are still the same as the summer night you adored, or as the Friday evenings with your loved ones, maybe some of their magic is still present. They are constant, same. Bringing you calmness. Between the major hits and the smallest waves of the storm that your life is, when you explore that constant, you are reassured of emotions. You are at an ease with your heart, with your sanity.
When the final days approach, and you are sitting by the warm fire, wrapped up in a cosy blanket, gazing at your constellations, contemplating your constants of all the sunrises and the sunsets of your dusk and dawns. When you are half asleep and half awake, you consider the designs of your constant heartbreaks and constant healing ways. While choking up on a nightmare, when you feel the end drawing closer and closer, the constant shoulder of your soulmate, and your sobs growing over the silence of the tall trees, there is consolation, and comfort in the trembling breaths of your love.
The end of the numbered days, the pleasure of the untying of the seemingly never-ending seasons with your broken soul, and then the winter, which has become a constant, for you, as you have learned over the years, in your good days, bad days, just days, is everywhere, like the sky. The never-ending sky.
It is always constant, winter. Always present. If not in the air, then in your hearts, or your actions, kind maybe but cold nonetheless. Cold is not bitter, the worst thing you can get is not it, neither is it the worst you can give. That’s indifference. Winter is a constant. Cold, you can chose what to be cold to. You can chose where your heat lies and towards whom your coldness stands.
To let winter remain constant, to let it bring you a peace, when you are at war with yourself, to let it calm you when you are losing your days to undeniable end, to let it be your never-ending sky. Your everything. Your constant.
Winter is like magic, a royalty treatment towards your fire, to harbor your fierceness and heat, to let your soul feel alive when you are edging towards the end.
Let winter be your constant, when you are everywhere and nowhere. When the end is near, let winter be your constant, when you are nothing and everything. Let winter be your fire which never dies. Let it be and you will be, too.