I could crack you open and galaxy goo would slime through the fissures, thick and dark purple and full of little stars.
You don’t even know that.
You have no idea what’s inside of you. What you’re made of. I guess that’s because you can’t see your eyes. Unless you look through mirror. But you and I both know, mirrors only reflect colours. Cosmic magic gets lost in translation.
I have seen your eyes. The first time I met with them, my lonely mind took their picture and replayed them to me – over and over. It connected us in that infinite land of dream and magic and imagination, where we will breathe and fly and implode even after this world has let us go.
You’re heavy. You carry yourself around and you tire yourself out.
Gravity despises you. You’re too hard to hold down. Gravity told Love to break you, so you chained canon balls around your ankles and kept yourself grounded.
That was bad.
You see, dreaming is flying, flying is rising above,out of reach from Shadow, the snappy-stick wetness that moves at night. We sleep to escape it. That’s why we sleep at night.
But you don’t sleep. Do you?
No. You shiver and stare at the stars and wonder.
Oh. Galaxy Goo! That’s us up there! Far from the ground claimed by malice!
I feared for your safety.
But you were safe.
When I turned and found myself deep within Grey depth and not alone, I found you! Oh, wicked truth! Beyond imagination! You are of Grey as I am, as she is! And I pondered just HOW A being of the Grey could survive the darkness without dreaming! Without sleep!
And so I realised,
At night as we leapt to Earths beloved universe and hid in a galaxy, you turned into your galaxy. The darkness couldn’t collect you because you collected yourself.
And so, you could survive the night. And, the night became your dream. And, you lived amongst devils and demons and were immune to their wickedness.
And then came the Grey…