Reverie

Last night, I had a reverie.

Truly alone,

I knew it a dream.

My empty planet

floating through darkness

bouncing off other planets

like tidy glass globes.

These are not the collisions I know.

Of shattered celebration

disastrous confetti

Passionate messes

But

In this pristine globe, I floated through space

Lightly

Gently

Small taps against other celestial bodies.

Terrible

Tragic

Beautiful

Darkness

Solace

And I gazed in wonder

Alone

The sights branded into my mind

only to heal

eventually

and fade and fog

until they, too, were just a dream.

And in my float

I flew amongst others.

They were there, too, I swore

I saw them in the distance.

Sometimes closer

Sometimes together.

with me, for a while

before moving on

in our separate floating bubbles

And they could see what I see

And I knew it wasn’t a dream

Because I wasn’t alone

I knew recognition

but not touch.

To touch would be to shatter

our neat, solitary spheres

and to die

clutching

losing breath

to the void

desperation

when nothing can fill.