.passages.

Perfect Second

ONE

Limerance. My fourth and fifth months have been assigned nothing but longing. I miss you. Please, come over and tell me a story. Every time we meet my sorrow drains shallower. Every sixth month you absolve me without question. A beetle on my grass, an expansive clearing. A static numbness in my soles, a steadiness in my knees. An ocean blue sky which today is unbelievably distant. Heaps of light are hanging amongst these massive clouds. The purest God rays fall through the gaps and scatter as they reach for the prairie. The end of your life, it’s the last day of your life.

My favourite music drifts through the open air. A perfect loudness which hugs my head and leaves the ambience of nature in tune. She stands still and the gale stands stiller. Her weighted chain swings from its carabiner as she begins to move. The tassels on her polished leather shoes and the frays on her black denim jeans. Her loose silk top which matches her hair clips. The corduroy bag boasts nouveau lace intricacies. My favourite outfit in its favourite place.

I reach the base of the megastructure. There is no shadow cast. This ground floor is made of the clearest glass. It respects nature’s hierarchy and gives it space. This unfathomable construction cannot compare to the design of my heart. At least it’s self-aware. I sit cross legged on the healthy meadow and stare at my lap. When my palms are raised the glass prisms gift them warmth. The light on my hands feels almost cumbersome. I rotate my wrists carefully and observe as the glow fills the monument.

My ignorant self is perfect. I wish not to know who roams the highest floor, and my place in the prairie is comfortable. My wishes remain wishes and my dreams remain dreams. My life is a life and my thoughts are just thoughts. I will die today and tomorrow and when my time is nigh I will have known it before.