the world feels lighter,
a shade of grey, floating, airy;
in december I swear the world was deep maroon, people were falling off the edges of a flat piece of paper
and now, spherical,
self-saving, breathing, alive.

we trudged through sorrow, fragmented bodies,
we huddled together in the wind and waited for something,
anything,
someone.

the feeling of sliding tthrough a crack and miraculously appearing in a cavern of gold
and blue skies for miles,
curving over the horizon,
just so.