Intoxication

There is nothing and that is all.  There is the wind, there is the snow.  There is the downward spiral that begins upon your plummeting into earth's pattern.  It's all inevitable, the wrinkles forming on my unsatisfied hands, hollow heart merely beating for the sake of ultimate balance in the universe.  There is nothing.

But I see your gentle smile and I think otherwise momentarily, as I stare deeply into your blinking eyes, wispy lashes pointing to the sky.  I think of the heat radiating off of your rising and falling chest, the feeling I feel when your hand was firmly grasping mine.

For a moment, it feels like there is everything, because your existence is beautifully intoxicating. I'd rather live under a cloak of innocence, believing entirely that everything in this world is going to be alright.