dark. grass, soft and itchy and cozy an **** christmas sweater that you pull eagerly over your head and snuggle into.
I can reach up and swirl my hand in a puddle of stars and wach the ripples of starlight.
a ladder to the roof, to the sky the grass is below, the sweater is discarded by the fire — too warm for it but it is remembered fondly, its woven green fronds. energy of the logic circuit burns everything in acrid scent. but it's not forgotten. cozy, off to the side.
I can reach out and clasp my hands around the moon, obliterating the light, but it won't be dark. hard to see, not dark.
I can let my hands open and let the orb of light roll, eerie and slow, out of the sky
it will have a soft landing a sweater woven of grass and darkness
do they glow now? do they glow with the light I brought you?
darkness is soft softly hiding itself in the quest to hide everything scary that has ever made us afraid of the dark.