You were my feast, my patron of force,
The definer of love.
You spoke to me the attentive language of immeasurable gesture.
This is the meaning. The life.
And as we flew over the mountains, I shifted my eyes to a certain point of view. Then the snow-crested mountaintops took movement until they transformed into monumental crests of waves and I pretended. I pretended we were flying over a great ocean that existed however many years before man. And it felt like magic. It felt like time travel. It's a different feeling, flying over water, than flying over land...like it would be okay to crash to the watery depths even when drowning has always been one of my greatest fears. I look out the window again, and my makeshift ocean grows more violent. And for the first time in my life, I fall in love with a large body of water.
As such, I would devote my heart to the mythical.
Then I remember my first flight to Denver some years before. I was there on a short layover. It was night. I remember thinking how depressing and industrial it looked. Almost like a lit up little factory. I remember thinking about what you must be doing at that very moment.
No comments:
Post a Comment