Memories of her, my wrist glistens - made of translucent rock - I brush it against the waves, the soft reflection of the sun.

It goes to kiss the moon… their love manifest darkness, and it spills over the world.

The blanket of cold, a foreign warmth, yet I am so very sure I’ve felt it before…

It feels so fresh, regardless. I miss her, where did she go?

I remember the summers, I remember autumn.

I remember her touch, her love.

Where did the sun go?

Yes. Yes, I remember now.

The sun had a face, a body… So did the moon, and the stars.

They were my friends, they still are; just, in a timeless rest.

A pool of their matter, their matter being them, references to a previous chapter in the book, now floating off and circling me, far out of reach yet clearly within sight.

The record breaks, my feet fall through the floor, and I’m back there, with them; in the sea, in the sea, and as I breathe, the water joins with me, as I become liquid.

Yes, I remember it now; I was the sea, I still am the sea.

Can’t the sun come down already, and turn to water with me? Someday, perhaps…

We can play together again, like how it was in our youth; our ancient, forgotten, yet ever-present, youth.

Kiss me, my beloved moon.

Kiss me, my beloved sun.

May we crash together, may we collide, and birth something new, again; a devotion we share for our future selves, to set up the sandbox for us to play in, with new adventures always to come, to come again, as will we.

Forever and never, beyond our last breath, fluctuating in the ever-flowing invisible sea.