And Peradventure...

Were I to step out, would I see more footprints in the snow? And were I to step back in, would the fireplace be already lit? Would a new occurrence befall me, in its grandiose spontaneity, or would I be treading on monotony again? I want to be lost. I want to know of the many maladies of the night in light of the day. I want to go anywhere; I'd love to be anywhere but this cabin. I want out.

My only rebellion is to think, and to dream.

I look out the window, and as my warm, moist breath condenses on the glass, I try and search for a sun in the grey hopeless skies.

In the flaky newness of the snowfall, I rejoice - a small victory against the routine. Perhaps, today, a new happening would come along my way to greet me.

Perchance, I will discover a new color in the dreadfully artless ordinary.

And peradventure, I will meet myself masked as someone else, or someone else masked as me.

Secrecy and surprise are pleasant. Certainty and the common are disappointing. Let there be a break in the pattern, a leak in the system - the system which wreaks of dullness.

And when the next time I looked for a difference, I looked internally.

And I met merrier novelties.

Yet when playtime was over, I wanted more. I want more. I want more externally.

And I reach out again, out the window, out a door, through the mailbox or maybe a closet, beneath the bed and over the roof. Nothing, and never more.

Perhaps, it'd only be when I stop looking that I'd actually see.

Perchance, when I'd stop listening I would actually hear a knock...

Maybe... Maybe a curio would start talking, or a bulb would start to flicker, or there would be a change of weather.

And peradventure, I'd meet New.