On the precipice of something great they stood--or, rather, sat--weaving hopes into their palms and throwing shadows just to find the ground. Whatever they never were fell from the soles of their swinging feet and clattered as it struck the sides of history.
For a moment, they let the madness of memories overwhelm their senses. They could've gone so astray. They could've been so static. A half-written screenplay. A near-forgotten attic.
But they had escaped the ever-churning wheel, the silicon bubble of this reality, and burst brusquely and permanently into possibility.
And they were exhausted.
So the rainbow-chasing was left for another day. A fervently promised tomorrow. For tonight they collapsed side-by-side back into the present darkness.