The sun hits our face like waves crashing indulgence ashore. The day is long before us; the impossible hours seem daunting in the face of infinite bliss. We wish for it to come, to throw itself upon our wasted and weary souls and envelop us in its sullen peace. We do these things because we feel we must. There seems no other reasonable way.
We are not and yet we are. One, upon a stone, away from the craze. The lost and broken, we are one. We hide behind the sun so as to never be seen. We shine upon the souls of the ignorant and blessed. May a cloud remind you of how this went. Of how it goes. It is I here upon my stone; I am one with never.
She, radiant and forbidden, swings upon a sunbeam. All smiles and songs. With hair like rain showers and eyes like a storm.
I do not call out as she fades into stars. I watch, sullen and slow, as the silence stings.
There is nothing here. Nothing but solitude and shame.