A Heart is Beating in the Dark Chilled Night...

Close my eyes and go to sleep...

A heart is beating in the dark chilled night, rhythmically, frantically, and without permission. It is alone, and in this moment there is life. Amazing, what are the odds?

From a bird’s eye view, pan out into a speck, the scariest hilarity that I can think of is a brief pondering of an infinite universe. Too scary to maintain, too epic to handle and categorize, but yet there is life, what are the odds?

In every body, a heart is beating in the dark chilled night, rhythmically, frantically, and without permission. They are alone, and there is life in this moment, and these moments cannot be captured. Amazing, what are the odds?

We are alone. But we have each other to be alone with. If only we are brave enough to impale ourselves onto the spears of our intimacy fears. To finally confront, and to keep confronting those parts of ourselves that insist, scratch, scream, tear, bite, ravage, spit, sputter, spittle, spatter, spite, anger, agitate, and lobby for the advancement of the cause: a stoic self perception of being distant and autonomous. This is incredibly difficult and the odds are remote.

Broken into my waking... to find a warm body and two hearts beating in the dark chilled night, rhythmically, frantically, and without permission. We are alone and there is life, and we are in love in this moment. And in this moment we have captured each other. Amazing, what are the odds?