At my desk on the edge of twilight, I searched for words to write for you. Something resplendent like they were forged in dying stars, warping our realities, those words. Where have they gone?
Nevertheless, I grasp a few, piece them together for you; my thoughts, my love and my time, my love. Under the sweeping skies, over the flaccid waves it floats; in the darkness, in the light, every morning and every night.
A letter destined to be lost like our love. Let it go, let it float, may it sink down below; rise, it shall, one day when the oceans take the world.
We only know what we know.