Woebegone/Letter to None

"Moths beat themselves to death against the lights

Adding their breeze to the summer nights

Outside, water, like air was gray

I didn't know what I had that day,"

-Modest Mouse, The World at Large from the album Good News for People Who Love Bad News (2004) 

❦❦❦

If you were the ebbs of the river, ripples and collective pebbles, I'd like to let you sweep my body away. 

To feel the coolness of your gentle being, splash against the apples of my cheeks, would be the equivalent to bearing a kiss from divine powers. 

As you carry me down the bends, tension ceases to exist in your presence and in the cradled nature of each other. Fluidity is nothing but apparent beauty, and my, its becoming on you. 

When we finally reach the riverbeds, you will nestle between the life and the four leaf clovers that embellish your figure. And I will sing you to sleep; I will sing you a murmured lullaby filled by a splendid eternity that dances with koi fish. 

Our salvation, that lies between the gentle rush of waves that rock back and forth to the command -- only controlled by kisses from Life -- of the wind, while we exist under a blanket of brittle stars that gleam above.

 I see the pools of blue that ring around your eyes, my darling, and I will swim between those sapphire wrinkles if it means the ocean would know how much I could love you.

However, dreariness from a local fortune teller could intervene the web that has been spun with polyester rather than a plastic effigy: degradation instilled into an institute of body, with no remarks to a mind.