The Highest Journey

[MessengerOfDreams]

We are a song.

We are a song without words because every moment speaks for itself. This song rests in the background of every moment we steal together, comforting us like a blanket, edging us closer, wrapping us together, and I’m losing the ability to pretend that its comfort isn’t my most fatal drug. We weave in and out of it, walking on our own or lying beneath the world that surrounds us, safe in our own mutual isolation. I know it’s true, I know it’s how we are, and the world misses us with every step when in these moments we are more vulnerable than ever.

We are a song that seems to repeat the same ten seconds over and over again, building one step at a time, brick upon brick, reaching higher than the Tower of Babel. We are a song of nights beneath stars, none changing, rarely shooting, nothing leaving its place, and I’m losing the ability to pretend that I haven’t memorized it note for note, that I haven’t timed every repetition out to the millisecond, that I don’t long for something to surprise and change me, change us. I don’t know if it’s a new song I want, just for something to move from one place to another in this song. Instead, we keep climbing beneath these stars, and I don’t know where it leads.

We are a song that takes in every breath we’ve ever caught and released, every kiss of air that seeps into our skin that can’t stay more than a second, every buzzing thought in our head that can’t find the words to express itself, every touch that comes off as innocuous but can’t be disconnected as fast as it began, and I’m losing the ability to pretend that all of these meaningless little moments haven’t built up into a symphony that tell a story about us that doesn’t need words to describe us, just every isolated feeling that has built us as something I pray is more.

We are a song that leaps from its own height and sends us careening into the skies, flying or falling not the concern. We see the world because it’s there and we will take every broken bone for the seconds of glory, every silent moment for the momentous pieces of glory that hold our names in esteem, and I’m losing the ability to pretend that sometimes I wish these moments lasted forever, that during these peaks and valleys I could pull the blankets tighter, yield the stars closer, hold every breath you take inside my own and protect them forever, as if each one is a sacred artifact, because you’ve shared them in my company. I would stop the angels from singing that one familiar note with no words, only feelings, and take matters into my own lips, taking yours in mine instead.

We are a song that cocoons us in its own world and lets us escape but I’m losing the ability to pretend that it’s all I want anymore. I don’t know when I became selfish enough to take this masterpiece, this small piece of time, and deigned to make an album out of it. I want to break the notes and start a new song, a higher journey than the highest, and see what happens. I’m terrified of losing this song. What if I throw it away and you can only leave me with silence? I was born into silence and this song is the one true thing I’ve heard. I don’t know if I can risk it.

It might too be late. The song is already reaching a resting place, on the stones we’ve stacked on this endless tower between the stars that know us too well, or at least read me like we read the constellations. For now, we return to the silence, until our next dance in society, and all I can do is try and remember the notes and figure out how best to recreate them in a way that reaches higher than I know how to reach for. My pen and paper are your words and your beauty, but it’s more than enough to find a place to start. I just hope it’s never the place I end.