river beds.

The sand melds with the glass. Shattered offspring cut my feet. We do not think of it as silocine as we push it against our breast.

The ribbon of lights uncurls above me. Those ancient explosions reaching down to remind us that our lives are fragile fleeting messages of hope.

What have we learnt in the lifetimes they take to reach us? Is their memory a refraction of ours. As satellites we only revolve around gravity. Attraction is the physics of life.

The coals drain the last of the evening. By dawn the world is flooded again. I am reminded that dreaming is darkness. That we only go inside when we close our eyes.