the rift between the notes edges into the part of me that sees you, and i know, in a sense. everything’s always in a sense, but for a fragment of a moment, this is real, and what flashes into reality for an instant could be a harbinger of years ahead. our tiptoeing amidst the froth of life was complete and new, i must admit. and thus we come to the word, admission, which is what my heart craves, and has longed for since a season of whispers. your rays have danced around me like an ocean of stars, the reflection only of the piercing firmament. what is not seen will illuminate the days beyond with its brilliance, though, and the fire within me knows a kinship. the flames radiate through the tips of my fingers, gently. only He knows the extent of the forces apparent here, but i marvel, i marvel, more at you, and what will come if the wonders begin here: the cirrus burned away by the dawn, the merging of my fingertips with the palm of your sky.