Looking up into a sea of light and atoms and fragments of what used to be and what will be.
I feel like a speck of dust, regardless of who I am or what I am or if I really am.
But I am your speck. And you are mine. To each other, we have become significant specks in the vast, the boundless, the infinite sea of light and life.
I've lost my keys in this vast universe.
I've lost my glasses, my money, my mind.
And around you, I've found myself misplacing time itself. Like if it were a joke, irrelevant to us at any given moment. I am captivated by your ability to enchant me. And you never had to be anything more or anything less to do so.
Let cliche be cliche. Let it be overused and overrated. Is originality really dead? I don't even care. I'm happy, you're happy. That's enough. The end.