Emmanuel

Oh come

It escapes in a gasp,

slipping past the solitude, the sweet caffeine, the cold and the Word.

It comes, settling and whispering, "this truth underlies all."

Oh come

The heartache breathes it too. It's there, latticed behind it all, a picture behind a picture. 

Oh come

The worn fella makes a quip about the weather.

It's the same one I'm sure is heard the world over; one of those eternal truths it seems. We commiserate a minute, two people in on the joke, and he leaves.

I'm sure he drives a truck.

And the cold seeps again through this window.

And the sweet caffeine is gone.

Make this right

Fix this

Oh come.

12:34

That night the wind blew.

It feels as though it should be a quote, or at least an off-quote, but it probably isn't.

It's not the beginning, or the end, or maybe even the climatic centerpiece.

It's somewhere in the middle, past the exposition and before the denouement - the unpleasant suspense of a story not yet told.

Last night there were stars. Not many. But enough to count.

Tonight, they are hidden; covered with an electric city-lit shroud of clouds and rain. and wind.

Everything doesn't happen for a reason.

But at 12:34am, it's hard to distinguish the things that do from the things that don't. Or even remember why it matters that there's a line to be drawn.

All that matters at 12:34 is that sometimes they do,

and sometimes they don't.

and the stars are hidden.

and

that night, the wind blew.