DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
His eyes went away from her, and to the tapestry, the canvas, he’d once worked upon. The auroras have faded from view, not enough color, not enough hue, not enough time woven upon them – and he thought he’d done so brilliantly, with strength and support and devotion for so damned long, that nothing could have swayed them. He’d been wrong. The sky and world was a restless sea again, and he drowned in its ethers, in its waves, in its currents, not bothering to surface. “You were in them.” Immersed in the colors, in the shine, in the haze, making her maps and tracing her constellations, a guardian of faith and ritual, of clarity and fortitude. Save for now; and he didn’t know why or what had happened or what he’d done. Just that they weren’t for him anymore.
He couldn’t see the galaxies now – it was all fog and mist and distortion, embers on his eyes, cinders in his throat. He gasped but it didn’t make a sound, an inaudible consternation bounding against him, until it stole his ambition, and he fell to the grass again. “I hope you find it.” There he curled and coiled, like a taut spring, head shifting into the waves of iniquity, hoping to find some relief in their balms.
Unite and spread the heart apart
