Love letter # 327

You are my solstice, the extreme instant, the full extension. This, perhaps, my act of madness. Here, at the edge, everything might buckle. How I wish it would.

Oh now, if you will, obliterate the in-between. Devastate the daily for a second of wildness. There is no consensus here, no pale diplomacy. Scorch it in the light, bury it in the night. Crash together high and low, make a circle out of lines.

Let us go as far as we can. Let the stillness reign. For at the peak and in the valley, all paths collide, all measures click to zero, and the air is clean.

Breathe.