I arrive at the bus stop heading for work and see the moon has fallen from the sky and is resting in a crater where the Bell Tower used to be. I'm struck by how unimpressive it looks close up, beige
...
[+]
Devin is a senior at BYU majoring in Interdisciplinary Humanities with minors in Chinese and International Cinema Studies. Devin works as a TA for BYU's Humanities of East Asia course and as a film projectionist/podcast producer for the BYU International Cinema. Devin loves finding beauty and meaning in the world around him, an endeavor he feels is richly fulfilled through the art of writing.
I drink from yesterday
and taste the tangible tang of nostalgia,
that golden age feeling.
With this touch of Midas,
memories become
lustrous idols,
graven images of an
impossibly perfect past.
Yearning tugs me backward,
severs the future,
and sells its spare parts for
expectations.
I breathe in the knife-like light
and press my calves, aching
from the glorious agony
of being alive.
Relapsing,
I long for a future
that reflects the past.
My compensation is the icy
rain that clears my eyes,
preserving my memories in
towering sheets of frozen nectar.
So sweet, so bittersweet.
and taste the tangible tang of nostalgia,
that golden age feeling.
With this touch of Midas,
memories become
lustrous idols,
graven images of an
impossibly perfect past.
Yearning tugs me backward,
severs the future,
and sells its spare parts for
expectations.
I breathe in the knife-like light
and press my calves, aching
from the glorious agony
of being alive.
Relapsing,
I long for a future
that reflects the past.
My compensation is the icy
rain that clears my eyes,
preserving my memories in
towering sheets of frozen nectar.
So sweet, so bittersweet.
75