The season comes like a blank page. Sparse. Empty. Yet filled with idea. And with every sentence, the story is write large as the tale unfolds. Each shining moment and terrible downfall gives depth to the story and creates a whole that builds toward a climax and gives us that catharsis where we might fall into the moment and swim in its swirling pools of foreshadowing, symbolism, and denouement.
The season comes like a storm. The anticipation. The quiet. The slowly gathering colored clouds, building with each passing hour until, in a flash, they explode in a cacophony of light and noise that set the mind aflame with their wondrous and awesome power. The deathly still of expectation, the wonder of the moment, the final bolt erupts into a thundering clamor that lifts our hearts and spirits skyward into the broad firmament.
The season comes like new love. Each new encounter swells our hearts and shatters our spirits. We hope, we dream, we wish, we wonder. Each moment an eternity and each hour but a moment. It fills our being with an electricity that sets us alive. Emotions are only cheapened with expression. Each passing minute brings thrilling excitement, bottomless fear and endless promise.
Portent is apropos of nothing. The meaningless is filled with import. But in the finality, we hope most for what we control least. We only hope that all we wish and all we dream is not some fanciful illusion. We hope, most of all, that we are allowed to hope once again.
With each dream, each encounter, each dramatic moment that swell toward a wonder of magic and mystery, our hearts reach skyward. The portentous climax of emotion created by every second, every minute, every trifling event that creates a titanic wave of emotion. They call combine to create a twisting, writhing thing that is both terrible and wondrous to behold. It lifts our beings and tears them apart, like a love that is ever fickle, yet worthy of all that we have to give.
And why? Why? Why does this hold carry us from moment to moment? Because we dare to dream. We dare to hope. We dare to look toward that one gleaming promise.
We dare to hope that, despite all the travails, despite all the heartache, despite all the doubts, it will be all that we wish. And we dare to dream that this time... this time... it will be perfect.