tell me the days when the old ones were the only ones and the earth yawned wide for her children

and my sister once told me 
that the ocean and the moon are in love 

and the tides are the love letters they send to each other

like the delicate balance of atlas 
and his ever-present romantic companion, calamity 

the ocean and the moon flicker lights like bright whiteness 
like falling into water and there is nothing else for a moment
and you can't tell which way is up

and my sister says, 
the sun fell in love with the moon but the moon never did 
so whenever the sun came out 

the moon hid from impossible love 

and i do not know why i listen to her stories
just the same as when i was a rapt little kid 
barely surpassing her knees 

about lovesick planets and the watery abyss spread over our own 

and i suppose that it is just human nature 
to believe that if it ends with "in love",
then falling is just the order of living. 

The End

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