Everything but Promises

I am not the promising type but there are things I know, and things known may be conveyed with the confidence which provides assurance without the need of a promise. 

This common want for reassuring the joys of now with promises, makes the present less worth living than a fulfilling point in being that has been reserved into a capsule of vows to be released just at the very end of an unending future. That is the role of a promise.

I am not the promising type but for days and weeks, whenever you enter your sleeping state late in the evenings, my being goes about life in my immediate surroundings. Yet, within minutes I return to us, and thoughts visit me, and I begin to reflect on what has been, and what is, and nothing seems more real, more beautiful, more love filled than now. 

If we stay here, now, what is the use of a promise?

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