Fluorite Fantasia (Looking for My Father...)
fluorite is a beautiful mineral that catches the light of our star and radiates it back in the darkness of night. my stone was a memento from my father, glowing and enigmatic.
his death was too sudden. before we realized the cancer attacked from all directions and took him.
all i wanted was to sit down with him and talk about his experiences, ask him about the secrets he carried with him, but before i could gather my will to do so, he was stricken mute, then disappeared into mystery.
why did i have to wait? why did i not put all my effort into living this precious time with him?
after his death I walked with tears behind my eyes and bitterness under my heart.
in the cold beautiful blue stone innumerable stars glittered and drifted. In a dream i wandered among them, searching.
when i woke up, unexpectedly i found myself in the house where he was a child. It was full of smells and sounds and familiar but cryptic and mystical objects. His presence felt so strong that I thought his voice might come from the next room.
though i am unsure as of why, but i believed, deep inside myself, that i could meet father there. day after day, wandering around in the mystical scenery, i looked for him.
“We all have our time machines, don't we.
Those that take us back are memories...
And those that carry us forward, are dreams.”
― H.G. Wells ―
his death was too sudden. before we realized the cancer attacked from all directions and took him.
all i wanted was to sit down with him and talk about his experiences, ask him about the secrets he carried with him, but before i could gather my will to do so, he was stricken mute, then disappeared into mystery.
why did i have to wait? why did i not put all my effort into living this precious time with him?
after his death I walked with tears behind my eyes and bitterness under my heart.
in the cold beautiful blue stone innumerable stars glittered and drifted. In a dream i wandered among them, searching.
when i woke up, unexpectedly i found myself in the house where he was a child. It was full of smells and sounds and familiar but cryptic and mystical objects. His presence felt so strong that I thought his voice might come from the next room.
though i am unsure as of why, but i believed, deep inside myself, that i could meet father there. day after day, wandering around in the mystical scenery, i looked for him.
“We all have our time machines, don't we.
Those that take us back are memories...
And those that carry us forward, are dreams.”
― H.G. Wells ―