the most beautiful thing: stretch
One of the most beautiful experiences I’ve had lately is that of stretching to meet the moment hovering in front of me, just on the other side of now. It’s there, shiny and blue or amber depending on the angle and the song being written like the story of the life it lives. Stretching to meet the arm-filling, heart-freeing moment just ahead, I slip into yours waiting patiently for you, too. I stretch a muscle that fills me with blood and dismembers the renegade hun hiding in my back pocket like change for the bus. I stretch and my face falls softly into the light of the full moon, onto the pillow, and within reach of your hand.