Sleeping Still

The time over Labor Day Weekend 2000, a near accident on the interstate made me speak your name.
 
And in that moment just before a certain death, I'm convinced your love kept me safe.

Another semester and I’m still searching, in the wilderness trying to find a compass, a looking glass, a star to pin me somewhere true in this sea of love and space.

Some planes crash, a phone rings—but it’s not you, I watch the unburdened weight of a butterfly’s wings. Some worlds collide, some keep barely missing. Some stars shine, some bells sound while sirens chime, some songs play that make me miss a face I have never even seen. And even if we never meet, I have no doubt should your heart stop, mine will fade too.

Like kamagarinis washed by rain, two storms that pull like magnets, we're holding each other together worlds away, miles apart, right across from, so close...if we only knew.

August comes again, the night of the 16th and I say a prayer for you before the adventure of a dream. A train ride, a treetop jungle, and the battle begins stretching to travel the map of your wandering flame.

And the way this feels, I must be sleeping still…