[The room wasn’t lit at all, because there were throngs of hands holding white candles that shined so brightly that the whole room may as well have not had walls… I passed through hordes of people, many I knew, who for the first time, acknowledged my existence on a footing that was equal with the rest of them…
… and when I approached the altar, I was enveloped in big white hands…
… and I was perfect in every sense for about fifteen minutes of my life.
I sang, and loudly.
This is what you do to me.] – (author’s name withheld)
I meant what I said. I’ll wait. Here, today, in the halogen backwash of this morning’s unspoken aftermath, I will, I’ll wait, so bring on, my love, the cold, still air of your potential debris and I shall gather and keep each silent vow like Autumn’s wind-devils cradle the scattering leaves.
I meant what I said. I’ll wait. There, tomorrow, at the stillest of points between past and bright future, I will, I’ll wait, as the notion of us crests like an ambient wave and then circles the stars with the lightest of breath until Heaven’s fine hairs shiver up on its neck.
I meant what I said, I’ll wait. Wherever, forever, until time’s mechanisms cease their incessant tick, I will. I’ll wait, and if I do this all right, and I plan it all well, you shall remember that room with the fading view and the hundreds of people whom you barely knew, bright and alive in that tempest of flame, and then forget them all to the music I make.