I know the light blue will carry us home. Our destination is hazy and it's blurred but we find it anyway. Our resting place is soft atop the unapologetically bare branches. A few times ago I'd have mistaken it for aggression as so seems the world when your heart and eyes and lungs are heavy but tonight I see its gentle pride. Warm light drips through the branches of tangerine love and our home is crystallizing in front of us. A cosmic show for no one but us and even we are not really the point. Slivers of glimmering truth fall away and it's natural to next see the paper mache love erupt into the black hole we had to know would consume us eventually. The stars are stuck in our throat and between our teeth and how can we be sad about the dark when we felt the entire universe pulsing inside us. I remember our beginning you know. It was dark and it was green and the sacred unity of it all brings tears to my terrible mutilated face. The bench is cold and the night is cold and I am cold but I can't bring myself to disentangle my soul from the electric night. I will sit here all night and lose feeling finger by finger if it means I can remember the way we were.