To Him Whose Words Entice
I am in you, and you are in me. I found myself internalizing a beauty entrusted by the heavens to you when you were born. It is all forever yours, and as a result, can no longer be owned, or bought, or earmarked for second dominion.
I’ve committed my loot to pen and paper, and they’ve impeached me today because somewhere, somehow, a burning heat raised the illicit contract to the sky and you have been notified by the stars that (ever so briefly) formed from their embers.
Punish me by bequeathing a space, a parcel of sky that Your Brightness has not yet touched. Perhaps then you wouldn’t be so high— distance is just a matter of time— and your star will not be so far.