When the internet goes dark, I will have been happy to see your face again.

I will close my eyes sometimes to remember, and smile at all the nuance in the memory.

The cold ocean splashes at my feet. They suction to the saturated sand, leaving prints that disappear over and over. Only the essence of contact remains.

Great unraveler, thank you for your grace. 

Your shapeless face removes my masks.

Pluto, I am at home in your depths, born of your mystery. 

Spring dawns in my heart from your dark medicine, making the soil rich and pure.

Though I don't know it yet, flowers will bloom here and make gardens of me.

Angels, be my breath as I locate my heart. 

Spilling all the joy-filled moments to make room for more. 

The extraction feels unkind and filled with compassion all at once.

...This. This long, relentless now that insist upon the death of my hope for the familiarity of the light, ensuring I do not mistake a synthetic source for the real thing.