I will connect them to the sun: let the gold run through her veins like liquid lava give his hair a soft, golden glow streak their cheeks with burning caresses stain the mother's brown eyes with molten shine, let it infiltrate her irises like a counter spy splatter the flowers in the field with a bright, inhuman gleam
I will connect them to the stars: let them reflect in her eyes and her new diamond ring place them in the tears of a father whose sole reason for living, the star he called his own, has left to join the others of her kind place the shine among his midnight strands, hidden beneath shadow lend their light to the late night insomniac who roams Second Street, searching for beauty give their inspiration to the ink stained man without a muse, bandaged fingers tapping restlessly on the side of his coffee cup
I will connect them to the sky: let the azure sweep over her glass-capped, personalized periscopes, and bend their pigment to match its own present the splashes of summer laughter to them in a cool, salty refreshment inspire them with fragmented hues and tease their soft spoken lips bleed the atmospheric tint into the petals of the rarest herb there is
I will connect them to my creation.
I will connect them though they see me not hear me not believe me not thank me not.
I will connect them in hopes they may someday connect to me.