The evening settles its oceans above us, tides of wind and star racing to escape the rain. The night achieves its shiftless limits while we haunt these husks and caves. The moon swells on the shore of another storm, lit above the sweep and sway of reverent trees. Something slips away, just when we could nearly see it. Something is lost as all the lights go down.
The dream is all snips and starts, the half remembered fevers of other stripes of life. Long avenues and quick kisses, the mingling assemblies of the dead and the all but forgot. Odd shelters and lapsed temples, the halls of forgotten gods filled with friends and background talent. Towers of wood and glass, a schedule to cling to while the woods grow dark and strange. You wake in another life, names and faces all left to someone else.
The tide rocks away the dreary hours, this life adrift on the rippling skin of another night. Each breath rises and falls again and again, drifting down to our own unspoken depths. This much the beast, this much the machine. Maybe a little angel muddying up the mix. We are so like water, steadying at our own level. We are so like fire, leaving only smoke and cinders. The sky above, the earth below. The devil in the details between you and me and the deep blue sea.