I couldn’t wait till after midnight to hand pen this letter. Each minute a painful hour as my hands beg to release these words in your honor. So I began at 11:43 digitally as to not lose thought.
To my great surprise the far side of The Moon has been seen. Captured in photo sequence. As if this doesn’t expose our delicate truth of you being me, and I being you. Like the galaxy isn’t showing true.
Again I find myself in awe by your attempts to woo and soothe me. Like the moons tide when it’s forced to rise. Meant to move and abide as time pushes the sands out to sea. Softening the broken glass slowly.
But I find my thoughts out at sea, only the stars to guide me. Wading without flailing and breathing into the patience. Your voice comes in so clear and crisp, around the clouds it can’t be missed.
It seems that trust has won this hand, so I have found myself in drier land. Where mountains beg the clouds for whispers, for a Truth thats told from stars that flicker.
I suppose that’s all I have for now. The message is in there somehow.
It wouldn’t be a response if I didn’t dress it in quiet repose.
I love You, Sweetest friend. I’ll see you where the purple flowers grow.