42.

to be the sea.

lacquer covered waves encouraging our first stories of what we weren't,

and wild horses bearing witness to what we were

reminding us of our insignificance - our flagrant contentment.

they carried us farther than our imaginations could stretch.

we became giants in that darkness. in the days of lightness.

we crafted our narratives. our plans -

equip with dough rising, sweet dreaming, and farms flourishing.

an imagined congregation of worshipers of mystery prayed to the god of possibility

records spin. the sun sets. our visions are forced to fade -

reality perverts our possibilities, crumples our tickets into the fists of conclusions

and we cling to the memories of genesis - of that contentment and potential,

uncultivated. uncured.

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cheers to the heaviest of hearts and the loveliest of loves for the creativity it provides.