There's this moment between sleep and unsleep
That's where the answers are
That ashy bridging moment where final thought burns into dreamspace
And something's something more
It's here that I meet you, before the bloody roses or the midnight phone calls
And after the breath of winter took you south
I'll lie awake wondering which season it'll be that you fall back to life within
or even without me
And if it will be the mountainous satisfaction for which I've reached for so long now
I'm thinking of you in the evening train that's taking me no place
I scratch my face and feel your hands pulling me out of my own atmospheric catastrophe
Tomorrow I'll wake with no faint memory of this secret life, but it's better
Season's grievings fleeting into the pages of my life and none of it matters anymore.