I always said
August brings the strange and bright.
Miracles born in the salt and light.
The sea takes tears without a trace,
while fate spins threads in time and space.

And in the dark before my name,
Clotho's fingers played the game.
The Virgin's Day — she came to call,
the whirlpool pulled me through it all.

No mortal soul was left to be —
just shadow, branch, and memory.
I saw

you rose.
You soared.
Through sky you tore.
You looked at me —
I saw

Forests veiled in silent fir,
Olivine fields, electric tides,
I saw

you there —
you held a space for me.
A break in time. A symmetry.

The lights
they bent, they turned, they spun.
The bodies moved — the beat was one.
Emerald eyes undid the ache.
Each breath we took began to break
the bounds.
We drew
still nearer, true —
With every breath,
the world withdrew.

Spinning fast in sacred fire,
until we melted, higher, higher —
Past and future, night and now,
folded into breath and vow.

And if you won't give me
that kiss,

I'll steal it —
from the air,
like this.