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When the sun pops, we watch hand-in-hand from the wold.
"So this is how it all ends," you say, as molten gold erupts through the blue.
I try, as I always do, to find some silver lining: "Perhaps it's how something better begins--who knows?"
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Cosmic fire coruscates over your lambent cheeks. I think of the Turkish word yakamoz--the moment when moonlight hits the surface of open water. Sea sparkle.
You reply: "But what could be better than this, than now?"
I struggle to think, and when you point at the sky--gasping like a child on bonfire night as a meadow of yellow marigolds blooms in the firmament--I have no answer silently; I have no answer still.
The End
This story was first published on Monday, September 19th, 2022
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