The Middleton

It's like
having a disease, or thinking you have one, but you're not sure, and if you are sure, perhaps just not knowing if there's a cure.
Like a child, perchance, sick with the plague, grasping at the air, in need of something, but unable to find it anywhere.
Like there's an enchantment that keeps them in the safe place to be, yet some few souls are drawn in, thinking they have the remedy

It's like
having a dream you know is a dream, but it's too real for you to wake, or it IS real, but how it feels, and smells, and tastes, you think it's fake.
Like a tear you cry, but not sure why. Are you joyous? Are you blue? Emotions lie, or at least they try. But do you know what's true?
Like a laugh, light upon your lips, but without cause or provocation; you think to laugh, not knowing why. And now the hesitation.

It's like
having eternity seated upon your shoulders, awaiting your command to move ahead and summon worlds you cannot even understand.
Like a future, full of light, and life, with-child now, and to give birth, and you can give the final push, to change the course of all on earth.
Like a past you can't forget, a sun that sinks but never seems to set, with its faint rays still shining back all the joy and deep regret.

It's war.
It's peace.
It's night.
It's day.
It's every rise and fall.
It's all of this, but no, it's not. It's none of this at all.