I sit at my desk.
At my kitchen table.
On my couch.
In my bed.
And I dream.
The world spins by, slower than I'd like,
But faster than my heartbeat.
My brain races even faster,
Whirling, swirling, taking me away.
A splash of color in a room of grey,
Red, arterial blood on a white floor.
I unchain myself from my body and soar,
I unhitch from what other people see and become who I am inside,
The me He sees.
I used to unchain and soar alone,
A single, vibrant jettrail among the gray sky,
Spreading my arms and spattering vast worlds in which my mind could frolic.
Now I am half of twin trails,
Two colors spiraling into Life.
Or perhaps,
Waiting to spiral.
Stuck inside our imagined worlds,
A holding pattern,
Waiting for enough Time to tick by,
Waiting for the clouds to clear.
We occupy ourselves with elaborate murals of things to come,
Sparkling prophecies for our Future,
Sharing sketches of our past along the way.
We smear the walls, and our hands, with the blood of our Imaginations,
Making the spreads brighter and better,
Sometimes stumbling on the way,
But always picking each other back up.
We patch the wounds with Love and Care,
Seal it with a Kiss,
Standing on our legs, breathing the air,
Held up by Us.
When we escape,
One hand in each other's,
The other grasping Adventure's tightly,
When we take our paints with us into the world,
Leaving our streaks upon the Earth,
No matter they be large or small,
The colors will shine for Us,
Marking the trail we bled in our long, brief time in this plane of existence.
And when we've reached the end of the line,
And the last of the paint drips from our woven hands,
We'll look at what we've done
And we will dance with the dying of the light.
We will not go out with a whimper, nor a bang.
We will set like the sun,
The warming glow; the burning of our life together,
Pouring our last colors out across the lands,
And being remebered only by those who watched us grow,
They will watch us go,
A blazing sunset in a zillion.
