I have walked these hallowed halls so many times, I know them like the typeset of my favorite book. Each twist and corner, every narrow place, every shadow, each stair, I could map them in my sleep. I drift through them, a long-forgotten ghost, and each step brings new memories. Here on this step, my first kiss; I first heard my favorite song in that classroom on a winter morning; if you look at the base of the tree, you can find my initials twined with those of a boy who has since died.
Other ghosts lurk in every crevice, and I relive them until I am not sure when is now and what was then and who I truly am. We were so much younger then, so innocent, so enthralled by life. We starling gods among a mortal world, masters of this domain, eternal, about everything and bigger than even we knew. We were here. These halls were ours, for a season, before we were sprung fully-formed out into the greater world, so much less than what we'd made it from within our own Olympus.
I wonder, in a shade's vague impression of thought, if the chaos of this world has swallowed them, battered them, pulled them beneath the river--or if any of us have found our way back to the mountain, to hang among the stars.
Other ghosts lurk in every crevice, and I relive them until I am not sure when is now and what was then and who I truly am. We were so much younger then, so innocent, so enthralled by life. We starling gods among a mortal world, masters of this domain, eternal, about everything and bigger than even we knew. We were here. These halls were ours, for a season, before we were sprung fully-formed out into the greater world, so much less than what we'd made it from within our own Olympus.
I wonder, in a shade's vague impression of thought, if the chaos of this world has swallowed them, battered them, pulled them beneath the river--or if any of us have found our way back to the mountain, to hang among the stars.