Colors in spectrum, Or: ownership versus resignation

Tomorrow is Beltaen. The light is returning. Things stay lit from here, half the year.

The next day, I begin this long and lonesome trip across the entire spanse of land. We went this way together and I go back over it alone.

I’m a sucker for symbolism.
It’s rife in the air these days, but I’ve been trying to ignore it.
Why?

Because more than a beginning, it feels like the end of something.
Coming back full-circle, but not in the same place.
Always, the colors change. All around me.

They have been monochrome. Variations in greys and shades of darkness mingled with light. Nothing full spectrum here; just so dark its black and so bright its just pure white.

What colors, what shades, what shadows, what lights and spectrums will a train and tracks and a half a month hold?
I keep playing this off like its a burden but I’m making kale chips and I’m packing books and I’m planning busses, and something in all of that — is actually thrilling.

I’m going alone because nobody could or would come.
I have owned that, too.

I’m all about the ownership, these days. Internally, emotionall, spirtitually — that is. I’m all about the acceptance. It’s a shade lighter than resignation. A touch more positive, which I don’t even know how to be. But nobody is around to be proud of me. Which means I must have grown up, finally.

I can own, accept that too.

I only hope, in the stretching expanses of VA and that big house, that I don’t dream of any busty blondes.
Or anything in blue and red.
I will panic.

And that’ll be fun to own.
Accept.
Resign myself to.

At any rate, in two days: I begin.

I’ll go ahead and say it first, or just at all: I will miss you. But, I plan on being back. Soon, as relatively as that goes.

We’ll see how soon it feels.

Until then, I leave the places I returned to in order to get myself in some order. Oh, and the things I own.

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