Farldos Away

That great whirling hand above me doesn't hesitate

That great whirling hand above me doesn't hesitate to pull the sky taller to accommodate the volumes it dreams into existence, so why should I? Hovered rivers and floating lakes the endless wheel of air and water returns to their dance remind me of your hand moving to the liquid rhythm of a gesture half way between dance and incantation, following the edge of a ghostly magical ornament with which we adorn one another.

That which falls within me carries me down past myself to the place where I imagine the sky, in joyful devotion, takes on the weight of the ocean as its own, and can I say I would do otherwise? So the sky crashes down obscurely on the world in a sudden flood of cloud, as I forget quite how to say anything, and stare in between wonder and devastation for a place I do not find without dreaming my way there. I remember how your hand moved above me and I forget the rain I carry for a moment, I feel lightened.