Fiction Friday: Creation

If the Lord built our earth in seven days,
can I not build my love for you in the same time?

If heaven is a place on earth with you, then I created heaven when I craved your presence, when I sought your audience.

Were skies not created when you were born? When their likeness was implanted in your eyes? Do I not feel the infinity of sky when you say, without saying, that you love me? When you promise to, forever?

The contrast of sky eyes and earth skin. Such endless earth skin. Your form can be measured in so many numbers, and yet… endless earth toned skin.

Is a heavenly body a burning elemental ball of gas, or is it you, being wherever you are, doing whatever you’re doing? Is it me, as I worship you?

I dream of a lake you have yet to see. I dream of us in this lake, with no barriers. I dream of no witnesses but the moon, no sounds but ours, and the dull metallic taste of water infused with life. I dream of seeing who you really are, the way you see who I really am. I dream of secrets, and wonder.

I dream of the shore of this lake. Of whispers and wine. Of earthly vessels and scents. Of things we cannot remember chronologically, but that vessels remember like a dance. Like your dance.

I dream of waking up, of the utter reality of you. I pause and go back to sleep.

“Swear by thy gracious self,

Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I’ll believe thee”

Romeo and Juliet (2.2.119-21)

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