Live Long the Morning Sun
SOPHIA CHIU
i am a collector of moments i seek the dazzling encapsulation of what it means to be young this idea of youth, a siren song that lures the old to crash upon its rocky shores who let their bones turn to ash and their hair into cobwebs in search of this perfect truth and artists who whittle their lives away to carve their nostalgia in the archways of time they let their nows go to waste in search of the purity of their has-beens grandmothers fondly remember a time of vanity and pleasure when they tried to cram adventures every which way into the treehouses when anything was possible everything was painted in brighter hues, it seems lush summer memories spent sprawled across white porches sprinkled with sunflowers and freckled with joy but now it seems they are painted in blue for the time they could have done anything worthwhile seems to have slipped right through their gnarled hands it’s too late now, they say softly, don’t make my mistakes live long the morning sun for it fades quickly from the sky and you nod in agreement, because what can you do? and you launch yourself into grand escapades, scraping knees and runnin from the inevitability of time as you try to forget hollywood for the day but don’t forget what grandmother said, and what the whirlwind of an age-obsessed culture cries out for so you run from it all, wrinkles and liver spots, the tears of adulthood you give all you can, every last beautiful blessing birthed from this life rollicking in the evergreen meadows of meaninglessness and mundanity cutting open heartstrings and throwing time away faster than you can br catapulting yourself into the arms of falsified love