I felt, as you drifted down those oceans of rumination, that the stories we tell ourselves, about ourselves, were no longer emphatic. We fought to oppress the single strangle hold of our own spirit like some sick twisted soul, barely connected to anything greater than ourselves. We turned them into gods and goddesses as we saw the reflection of ourselves in a lovers eye, pregnant with melancholy, mourning the inherent impermanence. Tonight and forever we are I and so are you but the twinkle behind the eye of the beholder never called home as all seven seas came to surrender.