We haven't collided yet
I haven't stumbled on the right words to say
until after the fact
The ghost of the stairway
haunting in consonance
praying for coincidences

Standing on introductions
during the ritualistic deconstruction
of archetypal meeting grounds

That awkward walk dance thing
we're doing with divine intervention
At least that's how I wishful think sometimes
It's better than the paranoid nature of my reality
I swear the moon's trying to follow me down
where I stare to the void and submit my crown
and it's these little things that'll save your sanity
In the end, we're just atoms anyway.