What makes the sky change to that color where everything seems perfect, before turning to night...
Night.
Where the stars seem to tell us we are insignificant, not our thoughts, not our love, not our connections, but we as a unit are insignificant. We must then seek to the deeper connections, the personal, to rise above...
Sunrise.
Night ending to bring a new day, a new chance to make our lives a better tomorrow, a better yesterday, a better now. We must ride it while we can, and never stop. We cannot pretend the sun won't set. The sun will set. And one day we will see our final sun set, we will see our final sun rise, we will see our final night...
Endless.
Where does it all go when our bodies expire? The touch, the orgasm, the glance from a person we wanted so badly. A person we could not live without. But we do. We live without, because we can, and we must. Sometimes there is no other way.
What if...?
too late
Memories.
Claire De Lune, transport us, rush into us, leave us, like a haunting melody progressing from A minor to something yet discovered. We are songwriters who cannot complete the chord progressions, but merely facilitate them as they come without ending, without resolve, only hoping that sometimes we may recognize some distant repetition.
And hope,
Hope...
Someone may hear, and do the same.
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