September sun through cloudy haze, cicadas hum, frenzy before the first crack of thunder. Soft rain falls, a promise that summer never ends. Walk endless across rain soaked pavement, parched trees finally free to exhale.
Home is not the place you make, it is the place that makes you. Familiar sidewalks wind, dizzy maze, fold into each other, covered in memories of each passing season. Bright sunlight under rain-slick, buried by golden leaves. Hours spent dreaming of leaving, getting lost in map lines. Lost redefined as present tense. Empty arms still remember, still shake with your ghost. Loss, once again found.
The world is softer somehow, back-lit by grey clouds, gentle light, a promise of safety in the smallest of moments. Look back on these days as your best. Stillness of an afternoon, time stops only for you.
Found home again, loss leading the way. Peace made with low sunrise, comfort now, under too-bright skies. Familiarity keeps you close; steady sameness, an altar built for your specter. February constellations lit up for you; they are candles lit to flicker, their smoke lingers, ashes, embers fall, leave their ghost on the floor.
Listen to heavens, the collaborative split between Tough Boy and Student Cello here.
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