dream deep

And we will be happy, no matter for a period of time short or long or measured in units more precious than days or months: yes, happier than we will ever know or hope to know or dare to know. I will love you and you will love me, and we will be friends and lovers and husbands and wives to each other. And when it gets hard, as all things will, can we please look back on the good times, and just remember that we are ourselves, and lucky beyond words or time or chance? For that is what it all is, I think. We chance upon the things that matter the most. We shall be masters of only ourselves, nothing more, but how beautiful it is to choose to stay.

Such wondrous and delirious, happy chance, these people who meet each other and love the love of ages. In lieu of all this, how do people come to forgo each other, and leave, and die, and die? Could it that everything they told us was true, and love were not enough? Ah, the things they tell us. Are we real, then, are you flesh, am I blood? Is this time, are these leaves, did we really take the train to Vladivostok together once upon a time?

You and I, we are trees. I knew you in the seed, and you know me now in the flesh of the wood and in the dark of the earth beneath us. We are trees. Come, we drink the sun in love.