In time, in space.
In mem'ries of place.
This beautiful now
concedes with grace.

Nothing will last
that lives in the past
But the ghosts and the voices
whose lines you cast.

A fearful mind will leap into a lover's arms and take the innocent figure of the child that lurks inside. It will put off thinking, feeling, living, for the evasion it finds in play.

When fearing people love fearing people, it is the fear that acts between them, the fear that does the loving. And the fear that does the fighting, the questioning, the hiding and the lying. Until love becomes malevolent game - a war you can't retreat from.

We have nothing to fear but fear itself. For fear is enough to be afraid of.

I can almost see you. Faded, but the colors remain. Muffled, but all the meaning you meant to give me is still living there in the stone, the moss.

And in the shadows you weep, but not quietly. The shadows here are loudest when these human eyes are empty, gasping for the daylight they left at the door.

What I remember of you lies in the fields between where we watched each other. The blossoms in the spring, the leaves in the fall. And your eyes in fixation as Polaris in the sky.

Ignition. Sun. I feel the warmth of the morning against my face, in seclusion, time comes to a halt. The tranquility of the early day gives a sense of peace as the busy streets and the lights of the night before fade away.

Slow. Stop. In the stillness of my solitude, I notice beauties that others, in their haste, miss in oblivion. The sounds, smells, and sensations of the town centre become a part of me, I am one...

alone, but ALIVE, I take to the day.

Infinite is the sky. And as much as your mind would try to reach its furthest depths, your consciousness deters you.

Even now, as we spew more photons into the abyss, they grow lonelier and further apart. And they'll continue indefinitely. As any force of independence is destined never to fall out of being.

but these photons between us. The ones that hit our retinas and warm the pores in our faces and bathe in our subconsciousness. These will never be lonely. And I hope that the infinite sky of night never steals these memories. They belong to you. Not as baggage, but as sustenance.

When the sun hits your eyelashes. I know. When snowflakes become lodged in the ravines of your hair. I can see it. When your eyes sink and then swim up to meet me. my eyes rush out to meet them.

You've become the upbeats that all my downbeats were yearning for. And our adventures, the syncopation. We are a cadenza for this city to smile upon in subway cars and on sidewalks and street corners. Something that the jealous cynics that we once were could never understand until we saw ourselves in each other.

 And now, it comes down to these moments before us. This mere second that holds our lips apart will soon be over. And each one after comes as a drop of the Aeternam.

 Just promise to hold onto me in this rush, and i promise i'll still be holding on to you when we die.

The candles were humming; no one was watching. There were lonesome cries at an empty table while miles of wind and road separated all of us.

But all was right in the world.

Those forgotten memories of home were frozen snowflakes of time tumbling through November's wind. Your tears are truer than our words would have been had I come to find you amid the ash of this house.

Somewhere close, someone speaks your name. And it's slow, and it's warm. And once you find it, you'll be happy again. That's all I ever wanted.