We were kids again in the dark,
Standing on a hill and looking at the lights of the city;
Shining pin ****** are easily digestible when the magnitude of the world gets you down.
Infinity begins where the sky is darkest,
and the stars, unmarred by light, shine in brilliant multitude.
Breaths of cherry smoke and drying straw
Are still invisible in the uncharacteristic warmth of a night in October.
What kind of pictures would you draw
If you could pick the stars from the sky and rearrange their order?
What kind of constellations would we make if we dove into night’s great infinity
And shone like city lights glimmering against the velvet blackness of it all?