Loose Shadows

I want her; a little daughter of my own. Not to keep of course.

I want to tell her that everything was once good. I want to tell her that there was a time when fear was the only thing to fear; now we have each other to fear. Not just each other, but our own mind.

I would be well off, maybe. How would I explain to her the last five years, let alone the last five minutes?

I might just let her figure it out for herself. That’s what I did after all. I might try to explain that there are things not to be understood for two hundred years. Maybe then a loose gray haired man will write a book about me. He will have the answers. Unfortunately I will be dead, so will my daughter.

I’d like to tell her that there’s fact and truth in this world, nothing more. Facts are only that. Loose numbers and quotations on a page, right they are but their also lifeless. Truth is was we choose to be fact, merely shadows in the back of our mind.

Fact is; I don’t have a daughter.