Because the light from a tired sun shines off the moon onto lovers and the lonely alike.

Because love pumps through your body red and alive and you try to ride the beam.

Because your soul is a blade forged in questions of life and death, scarred by the blades of others, and passed down forever.

Because the way she looks in tight jeans is an ache that will always stretch on, the sublime torture of it, the ecstasy of skin on skin, the sweet safety of holding a sleeping girl.

Because sadness is a raindrop, inevitable, falling from the heavens unbidden and spreading its wings to fly.

Because the man in the arena hacks, spits, and stands in the dust and motions madly for another round.

Because night surrenders each morning, and there will, thank God, be coffee, and work to do and people to talk to.

Because the cool breeze on your face as the sun rises over the ocean.

Because wolves hunt and **** by instinct, and dogs can seem to smile.

Because the road goes past the horizon and you can feel it in your groin.

Because silence cannot be heard while we are still alive.

Because her smile.

Because the child.

Because the wild.

Because the next question.

Because the day.