we climb to the summit just as the sky bursts, a midday coronation and we begin orbit. no one can touch us here clouds spinning above our heads like a mobile hanging over a crib;
these children are so soft these children are so scared.
miles away from war and pain yet a soldier returns home today. a soldier rests. and the lazy spark like a film I've never seen mistakes in turning towards, turning away. creases in the folds.
kneading your thoughts shoving them into desk drawers frantically, so you can find them later. this moment, you save for the sky.
do not fall asleep.
fall asleep. the wind runs its cool palms over me, gently, gently and I'm shivering. then, everything in reverse.
(you are small, you are gigantic, you are not the universe like they tell you, but a particle, less than a particle, important only to minuscule bodies on a tiny, faithless planet.)
there's going to be time. every minute is ours to blow to pieces every moving landscape leaves us with another place to call home, maybe. another place to point to on a map and say "we've been there" another place to fall asleep on your shoulder, another place to leave behind.