Day 1: A Poem.
Who would you be?
He hums in the sound of afternoon grass scraping against his hair, in the white of his shirt, on his place by her side. He is the sun, a dream in a second, in a glimpse, in a being.
I'd be a warrior for what is right,
I'd strip the powerful of their power,
the riches from the rich,
the whip from the slaves' backs.
I'd be the great black moon that covers the sun,
and all those who came before me
and all those that came after me
would be eclipsed
by my all efforts and deeds
I'd be king.
His chest is full of promises, full of hope, and he turns them all to her, gives them all to her in the hand that reaches for hers, that invites her for the dance, come, come play with me, who would you be?
Her voice is melody, a gift.
I would be the right,
the driving force in your sword,
the courage in your veins,
the fearlessness in your eyes.
I'd be the guiding stars in your night,
the witness, the fountain,
for everything you ever were
or would ever be,
would originally be mine.
I'd be home.
Her arm is her pillow when she faces him, and on the bed of grass and the laughter of children that surrounds them, they're mirrors, ancient mirrors reflecting each other, drinking from an old story and making their own.
They're their own. Only teenagers, only young, but their spirits are old, made from the same stardust, from the same rain, from the stallion amongst the gods.
Why?, he asks, knowing her thoughts before she thinks them, glances shared from distant corners of a classroom.
If we exist in each other's spaces,
who could ever set us apart?
He kisses her to make a point, to close the gaps in-between, so they can exist.
So they can exist.
The solar eclipse hides them from the world
and they are eternal.