now is ever
Everything is already past and we’re just going through the motions of a narrative we decided on a night drunk on loneliness when we couldn’t bear the idea, not of dying, but of dying unremembered.
And they warned us that our path was strewn with thorns and we kept the rhythm in the briars because we knew that to grasp love we had to understand the need of it.
And in this eternal past, their kisses a faint flavor on our lips, their heat a burning on our skin, we dance like it’s the end of our world and every possible world while surrounded by slaves to the linear.
Yes, readers, it took us further in and through, that path– we felt the blaze of stars, the space between them like a winter.
And the dance is the rhythm is the heartbeat is the soul of the stars of the galaxies of the universe and we move our feet with our eyes to the swirl of the heavens like we died long ago and this is our dream.
Yes, we did indeed die on occasion to wake with time nestled inside our mouths and honeying our words, chances and choices circling our wrists and ankles like the ornaments of forgotten princes.
(Each day we forget is the day we perish.)