Chaos Bound By Nothing

We dive through crystal lined caves, sometimes bouncing, at times crashing, for this is our paired dualistic nature. A reverberation is felt in the narrative, the signal of something truly new despite, and perhaps for sake of, the dance observed by morning light, both natural and unnatural, unmistakable regardless. Playfully called deja vu, the sensation arches its back from below and now is felt; drawn into eternity, each side even claim. The familiar sense that I am the navigator of a vessel closer to me than skin, but perhaps never truly mine to command, takes hold, as I feel my form firm to and against it. While perhaps never granted, neither am I rejected, and forever sighs in relief. 

I am still awake, perhaps more enlivened, emboldened even, proof that my soulmate's words, even those I inserted for her long ago, are true. I stand by the same bus stop bench, the roses shining in a world whose colors may have begun to bloom, or perhaps my eyes have finally been coaxed to see. I pick them up, and instinctively turn my starry eyes back along the preordained path, no longer sensing any shame for my role in declaring it for you. "Perfect means perfect." No longer a whisper, this phrase resounds, echoing as if through architecture unseen, sparkling every pocket, as eep has echoed for me before. For but a moment you are not there, for in a moment how could anyone be? Then like a signal tuned you arrive, right on time, right now. "Hello."