Matt Witt – Human

He, with eyes closed, drifted over her sand dune skin; she was sculpted by ancient winds and set in pure form by slow steady time. His mind came to rest in the crescent of her lashes where he laid his body in their perfect cradle, her gentle breaths rocked him further into their tender dream.

She, with eyes closed, traced the rocky trails of his hands. Her mind became a river meandering through the valleys of his life line, carving through his caverns as she slowed to a rest beside Venus Mount. His palms were a bed born for her water, sculpted for aeons by slow steady time.

As they slept, they were swept into memories of countless journeys. From the rolling waves of her greying ringlets to the dark forest of his spiralling beard they wandered over the crests of sadness and into the calm waters of their purest joys, like ships on each other’s ocean.

She recognised the bearing of his vessel and knew the courage in its crew; he felt the strength of her serge and could only long to know her depth. Both knew the entwining of their hearts by the ropes that held his ship to her shore, forever bound to return.

With eyes half open, flecks of dust danced between them, rising and falling through beams of sunlight like the tiniest Angels. The gaze of one soul gently reached out to touch the gaze of the other. Divine sparks charged with the knowledge of the other as fleeting moments with no choice but to emerge as new moments – until all moments cease.

Eyes opened, they stared. She lifted a finger to hushed lips and allowed the hint of a smile to coax her eyes into a sunrise. They have stared like this before, for cycles unending, tracing the cracks of age climbing slowly down their foreheads; crevices they can climb inside that will eventually crumble them into each other’s dust.

Eyes closed.

Matt Witt