𝕱lowers in your hair. Stardust in your soul. You're wild like a dream is wild and bright like a dream is bright. Raspberry-tender and mint leaf-sweet, gold-dappled, always with laughter hidden under your tongue, always with love rushing through your heart, always ready to run through the rain or paint sunsets or dance barefoot in the fire-petaled gaillardias. When we think awestruck, we mean you. When we think you, we mean liberated.
𝕿ranscendence of the self says Keats, so you become a fawn wandering in pine forest fog, white-spotted, damp-eyed, you become the rush of air under a blue jay's wing as it lifts off into the starry dark, bound for the moon, you become apollo holding the jeweled goblet, his lips made purple by wine and secret kisses, his bones full of poetry and his heart full of song.
𝕿ranscendence of the self says Keats, so you become a fawn wandering in pine forest fog, white-spotted, damp-eyed, you become the rush of air under a blue jay's wing as it lifts off into the starry dark, bound for the moon, you become apollo holding the jeweled goblet, his lips made purple by wine and secret kisses, his bones full of poetry and his heart full of song.