Heart held hope. We-us is a homage.
It is the when, it is the where.
It is not a dream, even if we conjured it.
It is not a dream, even if it bonds us.
If it was happiness, hell-bent we’d hear it.
So go higher, you helper, you healer.
Right the fallen ladder off its side.
Harness my climb. Your straight lines contour the roundest thing in the world.
Accidents that pass the test of time, passions for beauty that mystifies. Imprints to emulate. This album’s of the night, but we didn’t say it, some things just rise from where they’re created. And then last we checked, morning had broken. With light. And awe. And grace.
So here’s my humble homely. The happiness of others is best when we believe.
