Love, and stuff.

I want to lay on the grass on a warm summer day, and gaze up at the sky to actually see stars. To see a sky filled with stars, in fact. Someplace not littered by artificial lighting like most of the planet is now. The only light around us, star light and moon light. 

I wouldn't mind being alone, but I'd prefer company. Not a large group of people, just a few? Or maybe a large group, but off in a distance. I'd like to step away for a minute, and be by myself. Or by "ourselves." You and I. You could watch me walk away and follow after a minute too.

Star gaze, as cliche as that sounds. The only light around us, moon light and star light. The only sound, the sound of wind blowing through the leaves of grass, and our ears and hair. Yours preferably flowing like the sheets and drapes that angels use to cover their windows from angel sun light.

One would think of the sound of waves crashing in the background too, but only a restless body of water makes much sound. I'd much rather prefer a quiet body of water, but then one would ask what the point is. As long as there is wind, and the stars, and beautiful silence, we should be good.

And what do we do with all this? Perhaps we could lay there and take in all the serenity. Or we could stare inside each other's eyes, feel the fluttering sensation in our chests, in unison and harmony with the tiniest of movement of our pupils. I say ours, because surely, they'd be darting back and forth in perfect harmony and unison too. Yours could lead and mine would faithfully follow.

There's a violin playing inside our chests, or so it seems. There's a giddy feeling somewhere around the area where the heart is supposed to be. This is one of those rare moments of isolation and loneliness that have a notion of romanticism stringed along.

By ourselves, but not alone.

Things may never stay the same, there may never be a moment that comes close to the one we're living right now. But it doesn't matter. The beauty of it lies in the fact that things like the past and future tense don't exist right now. They're one of the farthest things from our minds. All this beauty would be lost if our minds were unfaithful enough and dare committed such treason, to let our thoughts wander to the past or the future. The past would be sad and the future would make us worrisome. And so it doesn't happen. If it did, perhaps this wouldn't be as beautiful. But it is, and therefore, nothing could make it not be. It's the kind of logic that doesn't need to make sense, it's one of those things that just is. It's both beautiful and simple like that.

And nothing else compares. And no matter what else may clutter my head and let whatever experience shape me in whatever way. Nothing else will ever compare to that.