People will start talking and grow tired of what they spout during moments of wake.
During the times when hope is but a somber promise of false salvation, the bleak and benign skies would collide, melting in an abrupt condensation near the place two horizons meet.
Moments later I would drop to my knees and look at the solace I found between the green shades of your eyes. No matter how many months or years or centuries that would pass in between the seasons of dry, parched earth and the wet, solemn downpour of foggy summer splashes.
But because I looked into your eyes and I found an entire galaxy to unravel. A whole continent to explore on a journey, and a vast ocean to roam. A placebo I could never explain in words, or prove, or leave, or grow tired of. A serendipity that propels me forward. A flame that burns slowly near the ridge of consciousness. A single trickle of tear that fades into reality in a lucid dream.
Because in your eyes, I finally felt whole.