Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose

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Looking toward the moon he drew a short breath before his words whispered their way out then hung in the air between them

So strange that is has taken this long, that time has drawn itself out in this way
It feels like the slow ebb of the sea
Where cautiously there, before you
Everything is exposed; all the secrets brought and covered by tides

Now I am here, I think I shall not move again
Nor breathe fully
But pass into the beat of it
Fragment and lay foundations with these parts to become something greater than that which I am; to become something able to council itself in matters of celestial workings

It is so quiet inside, with this observation of galaxies, of passing light that fills my heart to burst with gentle beauty, written by hope upon the trail of kind wishes

And here, this moment upon moment stretched out and over our skin
With caressing fingers
And velveteen tongue
Usurps my mind as the light from this moon may sparkle down with lithe intent to illuminate all that day has abandoned
It takes me sideways from myself and leaves me hungrily bound to clockwise spirals fervently placed within this witching hour