we are dreamers, you and i,
standing on a precipice
looking into the abyss. waiting.
staring into the darkness
helplessly grasping for light.
blackness, empty hands.
yet we search still, afraid.
the sea is foreboding,
we were not chosen, delusional just.
an eruption burned so (created by another)
such warmth
we exploded with desire
that brimmed fingers, toes,
and breast,
and left our silent soul still, for a moment, suspended,
like an angel.