We climbed through the dark into the lush canopy of overhead trees. Wind blew a heavy breath across our faces. We lit up inside with the sacred knowledge of action, not taken, but never earned. All the while little prickles of light worked their way up our spines and through our bloodstreams into a wild cacophony of excitement.
Nothing makes sense anymore. We are unsure about what comes next. The climb was the goal; after that, nothing more was planed. There was a time before, when we would have grasped our hands together in some show of will and some larger metaphor of unity, goodness, prayer for the earth, but just not it felt strange. Foreign. Not something we should be doing in this situation.
Memories funnel through my mind and I wonder if I can shake them free. We look at one another and feel something change in the air between our heads. Our thoughts used to fly freely along the synapses that we share outside our bodies, but now they just end in electric road blocks.
Nothing makes sense anymore. There is a Satan on our shoulders whispering in our ears that we should not be here. We should be anywhere but here and I don't care. I've never seen anything so beautiful before. It makes no sense to me that what is out there isn't what is inside my mind.
There is no great beyond, there is only the feeling of freedom I feel between my thighs as I grip you there. There is no light racing through the sky on the wings of doves or angels. There is you and me and the tension that sits on our chests. Flying out of our mouths like spittle.
It is enough. This great beyond that stretches out before us. It is enough. We look on it and live.