The Butterfly Effect

 If tonight were the last time that we spoke, that we made love, or even saw each other, what would the memories be in a year? In 5 years? Ten years from now? I wonder...

   They say that time heals all wounds, but I can't help but ask myself this: can time also create wounds? Can the ticking of the clock cause the beautiful Monarch butterfly of love to revert to the lowly green caterpillar of indifference? Does passion undergo some sort of reverse metamorphosis, to emerge at last as disdain? Can the BEST of times turn into a WASTE of time, or even the WORST of times, simply because there was no 2nd time? Can a future moment alter a moment long past? I wonder...

   How long must a moment last before it achieves a state of substantial reality, before the river of time flowing forward is no longer able to erode the banks of the feelings that were? Why should it be that 2 lovers, separated by tragedy or even death, are not subject to the same whims of time as the 2 lovers separated by convenience or disinterest? Why should time even care? Isn't a moment still a moment, even eons beyond it's birth? Or, does that moment change into a different moment, in accordance with some complex cosmic calculations, derived, in part, from its duration, it's designation, and finally, it's destination? I wonder...

 This moment, this sweet moment, is BLISS!

My reasoned, seasoned, and fervent hope is this: if, in 5/10/50 years, you are wont and able to recall this moment, this exact moment, you will remember it as this...BLISS! No more, no less...simply BLISS Is that possible?

I wonder...