When I went to bed yesterday, I wished for a dream of pure felicity.
When I woke up, my empty soul was filled with sorrow, for that dream, that joyous delirium, exceeded any worldly feeling.
Although I would slowly go mad, I would give anything to go to bed every night
knowing I would dream that dream again.
Could i’ve ever been so high to be this low? The starry sky falls down upon us only to tell us those things we’d never be able to know. Could those stars, in a perpetual state of falling, be the only certainty? Or is it the earth rising? Maybe it’s just us, finally growing into what might be a future for the sun and the moon. The distance will never become bearable for them to love. No, the stars must always be falling between them, to ensure the earth’s fear of rising.
That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.