I want to wake and see the sky.
I want to open my eyes and with them perceive and praise the vast emptiness that lies above, in doing so acknowledging the inherent balance of the cosmos and the implications thereof for my role as an observer.
Once the vastness and emptiness beyond has been duly noted, I wish to turn my attention to the space which I am currently inhabiting, and in doing so, to find you beside me, your emerald eyes and the swirling galaxies within still resting softly beneath eyelids closed tight, their every ripple and shimmer still fresh in my mind as I recall with equal fascination the depths of your being and the veritable cosmic expanse that it represents all the same, my love expanding with each beat of my heart just as the limits of the realm we occupy pushes forward even now.
I want to rise from our place of rest, but only after we have held each other close for as many hours as it takes that we might feel the warmth of our bodies unified with the likeness of two great waters which meet and coalesce, in doing so finding an equilibrium between the ebbs and flows to form a mighty river which runs effortless as the forces which brough the two together.
Once we have known, as best we are able, with our limbs and digits, form and function, the contours of one another’s bounds, edges, and comprehensive shapes formed thusly, for a time as is sufficient or perhaps even more so (for time is vast but our time within it is not), we shall take our rightful places beside one another in this as in the Other, and in doing so we shall Be, in union, more than we were apart but no less worthy ourselves as individuals, just as the flow which moves itself beyond the horizon does not forsake or take for granted the tributaries that came before, neither as the mass of stars could ever operate the same were the gravity of a single one removed or its mass ignored.
I will know the love of this place and all within it, through the love in your heart(s), the smile on your face(s), and the gentle grip of your hand(s) on mine (our hands on each other’s), your arms around my own (our arms’ embrace), your form and soul and boundless self pressed firmly against, into, and at times through the void where I have sought to recreate my image yet have in prior days oft neglected to acknowledge in favor of that which others have carved thusly (no longer to be, that We might Be!)… In doing so, we shall be made aware, through the blood which flows, through heart(s), apart, distinct, yet altogether together bound, a vision born of dream, made real and in due time (soon!) to be seen and manifest as such through the open wound torn and made to bleed, pouring forth even now as rivers to the sea, red not Blue, in the veil, the distance, between 1 and 1, not there to make 2, neither to be 4 U or me, but some state of being which lies in wait, beyond a number game, beyond even Eight, a future with no date, a found art landscape of objects, rearranged, different yet wholly the same, given a face and a name… a fate, beginning and end, spun of both pleasure and pain, yet to be seen but always to Be, not You, not Me, not objects (We) not time not space, neither what it seems, rather, awake like a dream, and sleep, this waking life, indeed, may very well be, not empty, rather, distance… and We, the objects between.
Objects, and the Distance Between Them 