I dusted off Coldplay’s “Sparks” for nostalgia’s sake.
Along with it’s older connotations, today’s associations with that song reflect a new pair of eyes, another damp fuse after a spark. Maybe sparks never ignite when you expect them too, or after a painful detonation all the fuel is used up. The earth is too scorched to produce something beautiful.
“Did I drive you away?” he asks. Maybe.
I did see sparks though, or at least I thought I did. I could have breathed too many prayers and expectations on it, thinking that–if for nothing more, than for probabilities sake–I had found “something”.
This particular streak of light, stubborn, but elusive nonetheless, feels more like a modernist romance where the wife is barren and the man looses his job. Does it every fairy-tale away; is every interaction a fizzle waiting to happen?
Maybe my expectations tower above reality’s limits.
I’m not sad, or even disappointed. I heard the crescendo forming.
