Between the Soil and the Sky

Clandestine;

Shrouded by darkness, many spirits show themselves under the veil of darkness. As the analog hands of the setting sun fall into place in between strips and swirls of crimsons and violets, the sky mutters a soft word before stretching its lips thin and swallowing the world into darkness. What the word is, we don't know, but what we do know is that in those few moments, we temporarily collide into another dimension, and, although we humans are too ignorant to notice, small, bright eyed spirits tiptoe their way all around us and take their places in a ritualistic performance we commonly know as night. 

Last night celebrated another month of the spirit La Luna's return to our world. You and I, we both basked under the handfuls of moonlight she generously scattered over the surface of the damp wooden deck we sat on as we talked about what happiness was made of. The spirits must have wondered that night, as did the clusters of people who left us puzzled eyes, what these kids were doing eating pizza and ice cream with spoons they had to buy in a pack of twenty. We're just kids after all, fascinated by the spirits playing with fire in the sky. Shimmers of light blinking mutedly like dusty lightbulbs in the basement, what a beautiful wonder to behold.

And then you came over and lay against me back to back. In that moment, I swear the sky must have muttered a word because it felt like two worlds collided. Or maybe it was just because we knocked our heads a little the first time, and I wasn't used to the physical closeness, but it all soon melted away like the world did in that moment. It must have been five songs, maybe twenty, later, but still every sigh drew me closer, every graze urged another, desperately searching. Two dying embers seeking their way through layers of clothes and darkness to embrace the other and ignite such raw feelings I thought I'd buried in the past.

In that moment, the spirits must have known, because I opened my eyes and saw them. I saw them leading a parade through the river, ribbons of blue, white, and orange cascading behind them like fish darting through the water. I saw them flying kites on the clouds, the air underneath their sails thickening to a roll of breeze that crackled the fire. And I saw them polish the moon with bucketfuls of light, letting it pour down onto earth and wash over our naked eyes. It was so beautiful, picturesque, sublime.

That night, those three words also crossed my mind as I watched you tiptoe on the railings overlooking the river. And even as I got to walk up to you, I already knew that I wouldn't have been able to hold you closer that night. That night, it was unclear as to whether the spirits entered our world, or we somehow fell into theirs. But it was beautiful, you are beautiful, and now I know what happiness is made of.