On the brink of reason. A Landscape of yesterday’s rolling like thunder. Faces and places so quickly forgotten. Moments so strange, existing outside of time. A cool embrace upon the ashes of autumn leaves. More than a feeling. More than a woman. Something far beyond what we’re made of. Surrounded by objects, we seek what gives us release. Versions of truth. Sentiments of faith. Fragments of history shimmering in thin air. Inhale the scent of distress. Breathe in the aroma of burning wood. Fires to usher in the new season. Two hearts sharing secrets, alone with the ghosts that dance eternally. Oneness; speaking in a language that knows no boundaries. It sees no sense, in giving meaning to its madness. A bird on the wire and voices that carry. Memories shifting, from one state to the next. Hush now, and gaze with open eye. See birth, and observe our origin. Bodies fall, and flesh succumbs. Breathe out a mouthful of smoke and watch as it disperses. A chill breeze surrounding all the secret lovers. From rivers to the sea, there’s no escaping what’s in store for us. Flashing lights and lazy hands on new hips. Spooning beneath warm bedsheets far away from harm. Hibernation. Romance in the safety of embrace. All those oblique souls, wandering without hope. All those lost causes, making a mess of what should come so easily. Afraid of happiness and desperately longing for conflict. Sadness a natural environment. Self-pity so cute along with themes for disappearing. Doorways to places unreal. No fabric of being, only fleeting feelings. Separated atoms kissed by a billion suns. Soft in the snow like sand between our toes. Leave it all behind, and smile wide. Rest those tired bones, and just let go. Hours spent in lucid trance. Numbers and words, unravelling with the coming of dusk. Windows and walls all false. No distance, only one singular point. Planets and psychology, swimming within brown eyes. Her fingers linked with mine, we walk the shore with no knowledge of tomorrow. The oceans in her womb so powerful and organic. Heat death and passion. Older than all the distant galaxies glowing so faint on the edges of the universe. Space, so cruel and bewildering. Out of control. Like the way we merge, there’s no stopping it. Our ritual act. Our signature moment, carved into what it means to be alive. Taste from my mouth. Open my skull, and see the wonders of life and death. Within and without, every step of the way.