Sunday, July 26, 2015

Raindrops: A Poem


The best way to time travel is to fall.

You must be brave. Jumping from a swing or down the last three steps of a stairwell will only take you back a few seconds. You may have the sense that you have been here, in this moment, before. But you will dismiss this feeling and go about your day as if nothing extraordinary has happened.

A bridge is, by far, the best option at your disposal. It is a much farther drop than any mere window ledge has to offer. The more momentum you build as you plummet, the more years will slip through your fingers like rainwater.

You must have faith that your bones will remain unbroken when you jump, but you must also be prepared for hearts to shatter with the force of your impact. You do not have to worry about your own heart. You see, time travelers often have broken hearts, or none at all. It is impossible to walk through history and remain untouched by war, disease, famine, and kindness.

Do not worry for them.

Time travelers have long since forgotten how to cry. 

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