And They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness

A stream of consciousness project set to the album by Ólafur Arnalds.

1. You Are The Sun

The girl she moves. She takes a hand and puts it to her temple. Cold her hand. Warm her temple. Her heart, boiling. Her heart within a heart, past the point of boiling to whatever else comes next. This is not a test. Some voice inside her says. This is not a test. Then what is it, she sighs, as the sky rises pink and velvety blue across the horizon. The beauty it fades as quickly as it came. This is not a test.

​The girl she walks down the street. Aimlessly. Feet dragging, back bending under invisible weight. Come to me, come to me. Some voice outside her says. Where, she sighs, come where? This is not somewhere. I want somewhere. Footsteps one after the other. Her back slowly straightens, pushing against invisible weight. The invisible weight it pushes back. Back and forth, like this. Footsteps one after the other. The trees they rustle their leaves. The wind it rustles her hair. Come where? This is not somewhere. I want somewhere. Come where?

​Gold the grass. Gold the leaves. Gold the dreams that bubble beneath the surface, swimming, swimming, swimming. Living comes and goes and comes again. The girl she sighs, while behind her eyes the dreams they swim. Unseen, part of innermost reality, but eventually the gold must come out before its sinks too deep, digging, digging, digging. Living comes and goes and comes again. Swimming, swimming, swimming.

​Red the leaves they take her under and back up again. Beauty spins for a minute and the girl she breathes a breath a little lighter than the last. Come to me, come to me. Footsteps one after the other. This is not a test. She remembers something, something sweet. Tears, but also smiles, and rhymes, so many rhymes. Voices swimming, swimming, swimming. Laughing in sparks and golden hearts, hugging in shades of deep violet. Colors they come, colors they go. The rhymes, where? The tears, what? The footsteps, why? The girl, who? The sun it shines through red and the girl she takes another breath, again a little lighter than the last. Eyes closed. Felt sun. Her temples. Her neck. Kiss me there, she remembers. Kisses in every shade of red. Swimming, swimming, swimming. The girl she sits. Come to me, come to me. A voice outside her says. The girl she doesn’t answer. She wants somewhere. This isn’t somewhere. She remembers. She forgets.

​Soft the grass. Warm. Sitting, sitting, sitting. The birds they sing, the girl she listens. Singing, singing, singing. Heart stirs, remembers gentle words. The tears, what? The rhymes, where? The girl, who?

​Words that disarm. Words that melt. She remembers. Kiss me there. Her heart bursts, alive, but hurting, hurting, hurting. She remembers. The gold bubbling beneath the surface. Swimming, swimming, swimming. The tears, what? Little flecks of gold. Shimmering. Glittering. Flittering down, down, down. The birds they sing. The wind it breathes. This isn’t somewhere she tells them. They sing, still. They breathe, still. The footsteps, why? Sitting, sitting, sitting. Let’s dance, she remembers. With two left feet. Colors they come. Colors they go. Gold the music. Gold the laughter. The tears, what? Glittering. She remembers. She forgets. The trees they rustle their leaves. The wind it rustles her hair. Come where? This is not somewhere. I want somewhere.

​An answer it comes, carried by a bird. Folded the paper. Gold the lettering. Loops of handwriting, strategically placed. Come where? An address. Be our guest. This is not a test. Folded the paper. Yellow the bird. Yellow its song. Singing, singing, singing. Open the ears. Channel to the heart. Swimming, swimming, swimming. Gold the music. Gold the laughter. Voices slightly off-key. Harmonizing something sweet. She remembers. She forgets.

​The beauty it fades as quickly as it came. Whispers of wings. Rumors of loneliness cured, that elusive yellow bird. Spurred on by tall tales of a song no one’s ever heard. Sinking, sinking, sinking. She remembers. She forgets. The tears, what? The rhymes, where? The girl, who? Folded the paper. Gold the lettering. Come where? An address. Be our guest. Golden dreams are swimming, swimming, swimming.

​This is not a test. Then what is it, she sighs, as the sky fades in and out of blue. Yellow the bird, where? Rumors fade, rumors stay. Where? She remembers. She forgets.

​The girl looks up, up, up, but feels down, down, down. Sinking, sinking, sinking. There are things she forgets, there are dreams buried deep. Digging, digging, digging. Whispers of wings sent underground, mission to lift up whatever needed lifted. But maybe the wings have disowned their nature, trading it in for a different kind of flight. Or maybe the wings have taken on too much discarded weight. Heavy the load. Priceless the gold. Sinking, sinking, sinking. Maybe the wings were never there at all. Yellow the bird, where? Rumors fade, rumors stay. Where? Letter addressed. Be our guest. Footsteps one after the other. The light glows orange, colors pulse and swell with vulnerability of fading light, swimming, swimming, swimming.

I see you. She remembers gentle words. Eyes water with feeling, so much feeling. Something deep, something gold. Was it real? Maybe that’s what real feels like. She remembers, she forgets. Yellow the bird, where? The tears, what? The girl, who? Walking, walking, walking. Orange the light. Soft its tone. Swimming, swimming, swimming.

​Be our guest. This is not a test. The girl she enters a soft circle of light. Yellow and orange, they both rise and fall across an empty hall. Footsteps echo one after the other. Sound of loneliness bouncing off hollow walls. Dull the sound. Heavy the tone. Yellow the bird, where? Come to me, come to me. This is not somewhere. I want somewhere. Footsteps one after the other. The light it flickers, her eyes they adjust to softly dancing light. Swaying with two left feet. Something sweet. She remembers. She forgets. Shadows they move, following the light, trailing the echoes that sway. Swimming, swimming, swimming. Her heart it bursts, goes dull, it bursts again. Expanding, big, big, big, holding all the shadow, all the light. Contracting, small, small, small, shriveling into a tiny stone, a kernel of dense material holding no shadow, no light, just an echo within an echo that beats to the very molten center of Earth and back again. Chasing a single golden song, digging, digging, digging. Forgotten dreams, misplaced wings, swimming, swimming, swimming. Footsteps one after the other.

​The light it flickers. Yellow haze. The girl she breathes it in. Tastes the gold. Sinking, sinking, sinking. This place, what? The girl, who? Come to me, come to me. Some voice outside her says. Where, she sighs, come where? Footsteps one after the other. She follows the dancing light. Gentle words that warm from the inside out. Her heart it hurts. Contracts, expands. Remand with helping hand. No, her heart says, no, no, no. She remembers tears, but also laughter and rhymes, so many rhymes. Voices swimming, swimming, swimming. Letter to her chest. This is not a test. Then what is it, she sighs. She wants to remember. Until it hurts. She wants to forget. Until it hurts. The balance between feeling too little and too much, where? Kisses in every shade of red. Hugs in shades of deep violet. Colors they come, colors they go. The tears, what? The footsteps, why? The girl, who? Harmonizing something sweet. Dancing with two left feet. The vulnerability of fading light.

​She breathes in the yellow haze, sinking, sinking, sinking. A shadow stops moving and becomes something else. They tell her, hi, hello. Voice unwavering, solid. Something whole, to have to hold. The shadow, who? They shake their head. She remembers, she forgets. They take her letter, a personal request. Be our guest, they say. This is not a test. Then what is it, she sighs. The shadow they move, quiet, quiet, quiet. Footsteps one after the other. Loneliness bouncing off hollow walls. Dull the sound. Heavy the tone. Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song. Sinking, sinking, sinking.

​Come to me, come to me. The girl she follows, footsteps ring hollow, hollow, hollow. This is not somewhere. I want somewhere. The yellow light it pulses and fades, contracts expands. Remand with helping hand. No, no, no. She remembers. She forgets. Golden dreams are swimming, swimming, swimming.

2. You Are The Earth

They tell her, hi, hello. Voice unwavering, solid. Something whole, to have to hold. The shadow, who? They shake their head and sway, dancing, dancing, dancing. Harmonizing something sweet. Two left feet. Kisses in every shade of red. She remembers. She forgets. Colors they come, colors they go. The vulnerability of fading light. She follows, footsteps ring hollow, hollow, hollow. Come to me, come to me. The shadow it says. Where, she sighs, come where? Footsteps one after the other. Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song. Rumors fade, rumors stay. Where?

​The shadow they turn, whisper gentle words. This isn’t somewhere. We want somewhere. The girl she smiles. Heart contracts expands. Pulsing with shining reciprocity. The shadow, who? She remembers, she forgets. Either way, they say. Either way. The words they warm like honey from the inside out. Harmonizing something sweet. Either way. Contract expand. The light it pulses and fades. Golden dreams are swimming, swimming, swimming. The meaning, what? The shadow, who? The pull, where? Come to me, come to me. Footsteps one after the other.

Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song. The answers, can they stand to be found? Fading, fading, fading. The song, to this world is it bound? Fading, fading, fading. Either way, the girl she follows, footsteps ring hollow, hollow, hollow. Either way, she follows. Either way.

​The shadow. The girl. They both enter another soft circle of light. Be our guest. This is not a test. Then what is it, she sighs. Either way, the shadow they say, either way. Voice unwavering, solid. Something whole, to have to hold. Tell me a story, she says. The shadow they shake their head. My stories are all tangled up. Tell me one anyways. Digging, digging, digging. The shadow they put a hand to where a heart should be, swimming, swimming, swimming. Golden the dreams, bursting at the seams. Colors they come, colors they go. Kisses in every shade of red. Why does the willow weep? How long has she been weeping? The tears, what? The willow, who? The shadow their voice goes quiet, quiet, quiet.

Is this the story, the girl she asks. The shadow they bend under invisible weight. Either way, they say. Either way. The willow, does she weep for the yellow bird? The story, what? Yellow the bird, where? The willow, who? The shadow their voice goes quiet, quiet, quiet. Come to me, come to me. Either way, she follows, footsteps ring hollow, hollow, hollow. Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song. Rumors fade, rumors stay. Either way.

​Beyond the soft circle of light, the yellow it breathes, the yellow it heaves. Golden dreams are swimming, swimming, swimming. Be our guest. A personal request. Either way.

​The shadow they pick up speed, slow down, pick up speed again. Soft light is dancing, dancing, dancing. Two left feet. Harmonizing something sweet. Tell me something real, she says. The shadow they shake their head. Why does the willow weep? How long has she been weeping? Her tresses in the wind, swimming, swimming, swimming. To feel wind through locks of flowing hair. This is real, or close to real. Anything that makes your eyes close to better feel your heart pulse, it’s close, it’s close, it’s close. To real that is. So the willow she sways through every night and every goddamn day. Either way. She sways, she sways, she sways. Stories all tangled up. Digging, digging, digging. The tears, what? The girl, who? The shadow their voice goes quiet, quiet, quiet. Is this the story, the girl she asks. Either way, they say. Either way. Voice unwavering, solid. Something whole, to have to hold. Footsteps one after the other. Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song. Rumors fade, rumors stay. Either way.

​Long stretches of silence fill the hallways of dancing light. The girl she follows. Footsteps ring hollow, hollow, hollow. The shadow they lead. Come to me, come to me. Either way. The willow, does she dance with two left feet? Does she harmonize something sweet? The shadow they shake their head. Words they come and go and come again. All tangled up. Catching in stomachs and throats. Heavy the load, priceless the gold. Sinking, sinking, sinking. The shadow they put a hand to where a heart should be, swimming, swimming, swimming.

Can shadows feel the wind, through locks of flowing hair? The girl she asks. The shadow they stop. The girl she blows, the wind it flows, now shadow hair is swimming, swimming, swimming. Laughing in sparks and golden hearts. Darkness shines in a way that daytime never does. They both remember. They forget. Tears, but also laughter, so much laughter. Harmonizing something sweet. The wind it flows. The hair it blows. Is this real? Is this what real feels like? Kisses in every shade of red.

​The light it pulses as the laughter settles down, down, down, into a pile of golden dust, dust, dust. All the shimmering exhaust burned from moments of life lived fully. But the ache expands again, remand with helping hand, either way. Loneliness bouncing off hollow walls. Dull the sound. Heavy the tone. Sinking, sinking, sinking. Yellow the bird, where? Come to me, come to me. This is not somewhere. I want somewhere. Footsteps one after the other. The girl she follows, footsteps ring hollow, and the words they’re swallowed over and over, again and again. All tangled up.

3. The Moon

The light goes dark to dim to dark to dim, from yellow to fuzzy white. Footsteps one after the other. Thank you for your story, the girls she says. The shadow they turn, whisper gentle words. Thank you for listening. Heart expands, sails to gentle lands, where wind rustles hair and eyes close to better feel the pulse. It’s close, it’s close, it’s close.

​Why does the willow weep? How long has she been weeping? Yellow the bird, where? Rumors fade, rumors stay. They remember, they forget. The shadow they slow, the girl she pulls, closing the gap and catching up, up, up. Side by side, two parallel lines, inside the golden dreams they hide, hide, hide. Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song. Is the heart meant to ache? Which way does it break? Open or closed? Are questions the keys that will set us free? Stories all tangled up into the most impossible and densest knots. Heavy the load. Priceless the gold. Memories are sinking, sinking, sinking. Your treasures, what? Forgotten, where? The heart takes us places deep and wide, but only if it can stand to stay open and exposed. Are questions that keys that will set us free? Come to me, come to me.

The girl she slows, the shadow they blow, hair is swimming, swimming, swimming. The tears they fall in shimmering sparks, but the girl she’s also laughing in golden hearts. Darkness shines in a way that daytime never does. Laughter and pain, all part of the same terrain, where courage and fears coincide, where the heart breaks open and wide. She remembers, she forgets. The shadow they pull, whisper gentle words. Come to me, come to me. Come where, she sighs. This is not somewhere. I want somewhere. But she follows, either way. The girl she follows, footsteps hollow, either way.

​The light it moves, the shadow they soothe. Like honey from the inside out. The willow is weeping, weeping, weeping. Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song.

​Is the heart meant to ache? Which way does it break? Golden dreams are swimming, swimming, swimming. Are questions the keys that will set us free? And how to stand all that we see? All that we feel? Where are those twenty-two places to heal? Yellow the bird, where? The shadow they shake their head. No more questions. Please. But the girl she goes on, on, on. Are we free to be everything we’ve ever wanted? Everything we’re meant to be? You are already free. The willow she whispers from another world. Come to me, come to me. Come where, they sigh, two parallel lines, they’re swimming, swimming, swimming. The willow, who? The shadow their words all tangled up. Memories sinking, sinking, sinking. Parallel lines, two tiny dots in time, so many tears, but also so many rhymes. She remembers, she forgets. Laughter, so much laughter.

​Tell me another story, she says. The shadow they shake their head. Hand to where a heart should be. The world it circles round, round, round, and not just there, but here and here and here. Everything happens all at once, again and again. Without end, both darkness and light bound to the tail end of the other. Chasing both tails until they are all light, until they are all darkness. No, the shadow they say. I mixed it all up. It chases us. Dark bends into light and light folds into darkness. No, I mixed it up again. I used to have a friend who would help me put it all together. Now she’s weeping, weeping, weeping. Why does the willow weep? For how long? Her tresses in the wind, swimming, swimming, swimming. Swaying through every night and every goddamn day. Either way. She sways. Stories all tangled up. Either way, we sway. Stories all tangled up.

​The girl she shakes her head. Hand to where a heart should be. Come to me, come to me. Come where, the shadow they sigh. This is not somewhere. I want somewhere. Rumors of loneliness cured, that elusive yellow bird. We have an invitation. A personal request. We’re guests. But whose? Where?

It doesn’t matter, the girl she says. Voices rise and fall, softly dancing light. Either way. Whenever there’s a question to be answered, the heart spurs on, on, on. Chasing a single golden song. There’s something waiting for us. Either way. Something like hope. Something like hair that is flowing, flowing, flowing. Hallway glowing, glowing, glowing. Impressions made in secret moments, quiet but as alive as anything that ever was and will ever be again. Impressions they stay, even as memories fade, digging, digging, digging. Kisses in every shade of red. Hugs in shades of deep violet. Is this real? Eyes close to better feel the pulse. It’s close, it’s close, it’s close. The prince, remember he said, everything essential is invisible to the eyes. Golden wheat is swimming, swimming, swimming. We remember, we forget. Laughter and pain, all part of the same terrain, as heart contracts expands. No, no, no. We remember, we forget. The tears, what? The parallel lines, who? Footsteps follow, follow, follow. Either way.

​More circles of light, they enter, over and over, again and again. The ceiling it rises and falls. Hallways they turn into entryways and back again. Be our guest. A personal request. Yellow the bird, where? Golden light is dancing, dancing, dancing. It’s beautiful, the girl she says. The shadow puts a hand to where a heart should be. Tell me a story. About beautiful. The girl she shakes her head. My stories are all tangled up. Either way. Beauty it moves, beauty it soothes. Like waves rising and falling in shimmering twilight blue. Like ocean. Like sky. We expand from the inside out. Wait she says, I mixed it all up. Emotions move like river, taking us someplace new. We expand from the outside in. No, I mixed it up again. Deep twilight blue and stars to light the way. I can’t remember why I didn’t stay. I don’t know what to say. Stories all tangled up. Words caught in stomachs and throats. We remember, we forget.

​Was it real? Eyes close. Is it real? To better feel the pulse. It’s close, it’s close, it’s close. To real, that is. Impressions they stay, even as memories fade. Digging, digging, digging. Heavy the load, priceless the gold. Swimming, swimming, swimming. Twilight blue and stars to light the way. River washing away all we didn’t say. Taking us someplace new. Either way.

4. The Air Suddenly Goes Cold

Two parallel lines, two tiny dots in time. Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song. Footsteps one after the other. The prince, remember he said, everything essential is invisible to the eyes. Golden the dreams, golden the wheat, swimming, swimming, swimming. Kisses in every shade of red. Hugs in shades of deep violet. Colors they come, colors they go. The girl she remembers. The shadow they forget.

​Tell me a story, she says. About your favorite kind of light. The shadow they shake their head. Hand to where a heart should be. Deep twilight blue and stars to light the way. Vulnerability of fading light. End in sight, chest feeling so goddamn tight from holding back all our tears with greatest might, might, might. So hard to control the flow, better to let go and feel all the body has ever known. Turning us someplace new, taking us someone different. Wait, they say. I mixed it all up. Taking us someplace different, turning us someone new. Wait, they say, I mixed it up again. Either way, the river takes us, either way. Washing away all we didn’t say. Sinking, sinking, sinking. Twilight blue and stars to light the way. I can’t remember why I didn’t stay.

​The girl she asks, what’s behind the mask, where the deep blue flows and the yellow birds go, singing, singing, singing? Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song. Soft circles of light are dancing, dancing, dancing. Swaying with two left feet. Harmonizing something sweet. The shadow they slow, the girl she pulls. Gaps close and they’re both dancing, dancing, dancing. Laughing in sparks and golden hearts, playing with vulnerability of fading light. Darkness shines with golden dreams, they’re bursting at the seams.

​The girl she blows, the wind it flows, hair is swimming, swimming, swimming. Eyes close to better feel the pulse, it’s close, it’s close, it’s close. To real that is. Tears, but also laughter, so much laughter. Swelling in tides, an up and down rhyme of yellow and silkiest white. Hearts are humming, humming, humming. Light as waves swimming away, dancing stops as dark holds sway. The girl she shivers, the shadow they pull. Voice unwavering, solid. Something whole, to have to hold. Come close, come close, come close.

​The hair it stands on end as the air makes its subtle bend away from warmth and light. Where did it go, that yellow bird, those gentle words that stir from the inside out? They’re here, the shadow they say, hand to where a heart should be. The girl she shakes her head, quietly says, I don’t feel the heat, two left feet, my hands they’re cold, they’re cold, they’re cold. Come to me, come to me. Come where, she sighs. This isn’t somewhere. I want somewhere. Chasing a question, chasing a single golden song. The girl she shivers, the shadow they pull, arms around the pulse, it’s close, it’s close, it’s close.

​Catch your breath, take a rest. This is not a test. The shadow they shake their head. This is not a test. We’re just doing our best. Aren’t we? And isn’t that ever enough? Isn’t that something like courage? To stand what we see, and still be here. It’s near. It’s close. Either way. The girl she shivers, the shadow they pull, arms around the pulse. It’s close. Her frame it shakes in tiny tremors and quakes, even as it’s held. Light as waves swimming away. Silence covering everything there is left to say.

​5. Still

The girl she wakes, the shadow they shake her gently, gently, gently. Listen they say, and the girl she turns up her ears. Arms around the pulse, but the girl she shivers, still. Holding tight, like dancing ball of shining light, except all the warmth is swimming away in gentle waves of blue and gray. Yellow the bird, where? Golden the dreams, where? The hum of a million swimming songs is gone, and the breath of quiet holds their hearts in place.

​Come to me, come to me. A personal request. Be our guest. We’re just doing our best, and isn’t that ever enough. Isn’t it? The willow she weeps, the willow she sways, but does her heart ever get carried away?

​Come to me, come to me. Can we sit here for a little? The girl she asks. Voice heavy like settling stones. Tell me a story about the dark place, tales of caverns where dreams swim under inside-out skin, where people are brave.

​The shadow they shake their head. My stories are all tangled up. My willow was brave. She used to take all my stories and put them together, piece by piece, under gentle cover of falling night, and sometimes she showed me how my story held her own. No, I mixed it all up. How her story held my own. No, no, no. How they pulsed together, one living breathing thing, golden dreams always bursting at the seams. Always. Until always became sometimes, and sometimes became once, and then never ever again.

​When does the story end? Why? When did it begin? Why? And how to tell the difference between the two? What is ending, what is beginning? The beginning is the end. No, I mixed it up again. The end is the beginning. Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song. Stories all tangled up. Why? Courage is to believe in light when all you see is dark. To believe in dark when all you see is light. To believe in song when all you hear is silence. In silence when all you hear is song. What is the beginning? What is the end?

​The willow she weeps. The shadow they speak. The girl she listens, still. Eyes covered. Arms around the pulse. It’s close, it’s close, it’s close. Parallel lines, moments in time, beating hearts swallowed and aligned. One living breathing thing.

​6. Swallow Us

Can we sit here for a little? The girl she asks, again. Voice heavy like settling stones. The shadow they cover her eyes. Hand to where a heart should be. They both remember. They forget. Bodies turn heavy when dark holds sway. They can’t remember why they didn’t stay. Is this giving up? Is this what defeat looks like? Can we sit here, still? The girl she sighs. Darkness heavy over eyes, stillness cool against her thighs, curled up, up, up. Shadow arms around the pulse. Beating hearts aligned to make one living breathing thing. Bursting at the seams.

​This is not a test. Then what is it, she sighs. Tired is all I feel. Where are those twenty-two places to heal? Darkness over memories, over everything, and so I’m tired, the girls she says, I’m so tired.

​The shadow they breathe, muscles they heave, and so I’m tired, too. The shadow they say. I’m so tired, too. From digging, digging, digging. Whispers of wings sent underground, mission to lift up whatever needed lifted. But maybe the wings have disowned their nature, trading it in for a different kind of flight. Or maybe the wings have taken on too much discarded weight. Heavy the load. Priceless the gold. Sinking, sinking, sinking. Maybe the wings were never there at all. Yellow the bird, where? Rumors fade, rumors stay. Where? Letter addressed. Be our guest. Let’s rest. This is not a test. Then what is it? Together they sigh. Is this giving up? Is this what defeat looks like? Yes, maybe. No, maybe. Stories all tangled up. They remember. They forget.

​Eyes close. Heaviness swallows them whole. Sinking, sinking, sinking. Dust gathers, light flickers down, down, down. The answers, can they stand to be found? The song, to this world is it bound? What to do when everything seems to come at such high a cost? Paid in currency of all we’ve ever lost. When every ache seems to make the heart break, over and over, again and again. When will it ever end?

​Gentle the friend, where? Yellow the bird, where? They remember. They forget. Eyes close. Heaviness swallows them whole. Sinking, sinking, sinking.

​​7. Slowly, Comes The Light

Deep twilight blue and stars to light the way. Eyes open to brand new day, or night, whichever one will give their dusty wings the chance of flight. The shadow they shake her gently, gently, gently. Cheeks wet from tears, the shadow they wipe them away. Cheeks wet from tears, the girl she wipes them away. Droplets refusing to be evaporated. One living breathing thing. The tears, what? They remember. They forget.

​The grass wet with dew. Droplets refusing to be evaporated. One living breathing thing. But where did the grass come from, and where did the walls go, the cavern with its high ceilings is gone, gone, gone. Hallways that turn into entryways and back again, gone, gone, gone. Softer, everything is softer here.

​The girl she runs her fingers through grass and laughs, remembering golden hearts and words that spark small fires inside, warming, always warming all those things that hide. The shadow they shake their head, fingers through grass are fingers through dancing hair. They remember. The wind it blows, the hair it flows, my willow is weeping, but her heart it grows and grows. Are tears the questions that will set us free? Are tears the single golden song that will carry us along from one lesson to the next? From one heart to a bigger heart? Wiser?

​The girl she laughs again and the shadow they ask, is it something I said? No, the girl she shakes her head. I don’t think so. My stories they’re all tangled up, but my chest feels lighter. The shadow they nod. Hand to where a heart should be. They laugh, too, and soon the laughter it fills the twilight blue, while tears stream down cheeks and the sun it slowly peeks above the horizon. But the blue holds sway for just a little while longer. Chasing a question. Chasing a single golden song. Kisses in every shade of red. Hugs in shades of deep violet. They remember, they remember, they remember.

​Life is good and bad and everything in between. The shadow they say. Laughing in sparks and golden hearts. Crying in equal parts. Everything is release, everything is to make room for more, but that doesn’t mean anything is lost from before. That doesn’t mean we forget. Wait, I mixed it all up again. But the shadow they don’t hang their head, they smile instead, settling back on the soft grass, something sweet, two left feet, heart settling into its rhythmic beat. The gentle heat of one living breathing thing.

​The laughter it slows, the wind it blows, carrying twenty-two shades of blue. Sighs of fleeting joy settling like stone at the bottom of the bottom of everything. Yellow the bird, where? The shadow they shake their head. Come to me, come to me. Hear me. Nothing is lost. Everything is release, everything is to make room for more. This is not a test, just another place to rest.

​And the ache? The girl she asks. What if it still fills me up, seizing my insides and making me heavy like stone, rattling like bones?

Everything eventually turns into something else. The shadow they say. Carefully. Hesitating something sweet. Everything goes light to dark to light again. To stand what we see. To stand what we feel. To find all those forgotten places to heal. To sway and sway through every night and every goddamn day. Heart open, not closed. It grows, it grows, it grows. You are golden, either way. Nothing is lost, either way. The dreams, they’re always bursting at the seams. Hesitating something sweet. Either way.​

​​8. From Behind Shadows

The shadow points to trees lining the horizon, guardians of the in-between. Tell me a story about the blue place, where night isn’t day and day isn’t night.

​Do you see those dancing lights, fireflies in flight? Mapping paths seldom flown, making stars of their own. Dancing in and out of twilight blue, they’re swimming, swimming, swimming. The blue is deep, and maybe what we see is just one layer, and to access the rest is not a matter of seeing, but feeling, and not a matter of distance, but depth. Come to me, come to me. Hear me. We think this call comes from something outside, when it certainly and deliberately comes from in. That inside-out skin. Can we ever show too much? Can we ever remember enough? Can we ever feel all that we are? All that we’ve ever been? And how can we feel it again and again and again?

​Are questions the keys that will set us free? How to stand all that we feel? Where are those forgotten places to heal? Yellow the bird, where? The shadow they shakes their head. No more questions. Please. But the girl she goes on, on, on. Inside-out. No, I mixed it all up. Outside-in. How do you see me? Am I me, either way? How do I see me? Am I me, either way?

​The girl she forces a laugh that turns into a sigh. I was trying to tell you about the blue place, where night isn’t day and day isn’t night. Where questions they have answers, and the birds they have their golden songs. Where dreams, those shimmering things, make even shakiest voices sing. Swimming, swimming, swimming. But how to take the blue to light to dark and back again? Sighs of fleeting joy settling like stone at the bottom of the bottom of everything. Yellow the bird, where?

​The shadow they shake their head. Come to me, come to me. Hear me. Nothing is lost. As day turns to night and back again. Light to dark to light. Life to death to life. Golden the dreams, they’re bursting at the seams. Always and deliberately. Deliberately and always. Swimming, swimming, swimming. Inside-out. Outside-in. Bubbling at the surface. You are golden, either way. Nothing is lost, either way. One living breathing thing. We remember our wings. Those feathery things. We remember our dreams. Bursting at the seams. Making even shakiest voices sing. Somewhere, someone is always harmonizing something sweet.

9. They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness

The girl she moves. She takes a hand and puts it to her temple. Cold her hand. Warm her temple. Her heart, boiling. Her heart within a heart, past the point of boiling to whatever else comes next. This is not a test. The shadow they say. This is not a test. Then what is it, she sighs, as the sky rises pink and velvety blue across the horizon. The shadow they shake their head. Hand to where a heart should be. This is two parallel lines watching the sun rise up and away, shimmering over everything there is left to say.

​And if we don’t say it? The girl she asks. The shadow they smile and the girl remembers other smiles, and rhymes, so many rhymes. Eyes closed. Felt sun. Her temples. Her neck. Kiss me there, she remembers. Kisses in every shade of red. Soft light is dancing, dancing, dancing. Two left feet. Voices slightly off-key. Harmonizing something sweet.

​The shadow they move, their back slowly straightens, pushing against invisible weight. The invisible weight it pushes back. Back and forth, like this. Come to me, come to me.

The girl she rises, a tiny golden sun. Back and forth, like this. The trees they rustle their leaves. The wind it rustles her hair. Come where?

​The shadow they say in a voice that’s full. Come here, to the place where dreams make reality shake over and under and over again. To the place where reds and violets sweep through dark corners, where soft yellows and oranges swell and burst to high ceilings and beyond. To the land of golden songs, where yellow the birds are chasing the tail end of hope, where rumors fade and rumors stay, but nothing is lost either way.

​The girl she asks, but when will the willow stop weeping? Loneliness cured, is it an elusive yellow bird, or does it exist here or there?

​The cure it comes and goes and comes again. Be our guest. Invitation to enter the place where hearts break, but as our aches pool into tiny lakes, we learn how to take something old and make something new. Spinning golden wheat alongside other parallel lines we meet, always and deliberately, in and out and in and out again. These moments come and go and come and go again. The shadow they shake their head, but go on, on, on. Words all tangled up. Either way. Hear me. Nothing is lost, either way. As day turns to night and back again. Light to dark to light. Life to death to life. Golden the dreams, they’re bursting at the seams. Always and deliberately. Deliberately and always. Swimming, swimming, swimming. Inside-out. Outside-in. Bubbling at the surface. One living breathing thing. Kisses in every shade of red. Hugs in shades of deep violet. Gentle words that stir. Like honey from the inside out. To feel wind through locks of flowing hair. This is real, or close to real. Anything that makes your eyes close to better feel your heart pulse, it’s close, it’s close, it’s close. To real that is. These moments come and go, but they will always come again.

​And now? The girl she asks. Is this real? Is it close? The shadow they take her hand, swimming, swimming, swimming. Come to me, come to me. Footsteps one after the other. This is two parallel lines watching the sun rise up and away, shimmering over everything there is left to say. Hearts growing, growing, growing. Yes, this is real. Yes, it’s close. We remember the pulse. It’s close, it’s close, it’s close.

​The girl she smiles and the smile it reaches her heart, beating, beating, beating. The shadow they smile and the smile it reaches their heart, beating, beating, beating. One living breathing thing. Something sweet. They both remember. Nothing is ever lost. It’s all real. It’s all close. It’s all golden, either way.

​Up and away, swaying through every night and every goddamn day. Speaking, feeling, healing into all the heart has left to say. To stand all that we see. To stay.