in the swollen summer days, the pressure
of what is coming to an end, the silent chaos
of the surroundings, and
the strange comfort of the new wind
completely took over everything else.
hence the slow details of day-to-day occurrences.
for there seemed to be no transition between day and night,
and light was slowly dipping into darkness,
and darkness was gently unfolding on light.
the intertwined arrays of sunshine on the clouds,
the fading sunset,
the smoke fondling the moon
all happened. all vanished.
when the eyes closed and opened
they anticipated the same thing,
and so they were served.
the aftertaste of a night's vivid creations was sweet
like honey
subtle
like tea
and lasting
like memories that were created to haunt for a lifetime.
what was remembered and
what was forgotten
all blended together.
thus past wounds were healed,
laughs were concealed behind lips,
and time was dissolved into air
to sink them all, to rise them all,
to sew fantasies seamlessly into reality.
and maybe the dream would last,
from the juxtaposition of breath to breath,
into eternity.