There's this moment between sleep and unsleep That's where the answers are That ashy bridging moment where final thought burns into dreamspace And something's something more It's here that I meet you, before the bloody roses or the midnight phone calls And after the breath of winter took you south I'll lie awake wondering which season it'll be that you fall back to life within or even without me And if it will be the mountainous satisfaction for which I've reached for so long now I'm thinking of you in the evening train that's taking me no place I scratch my face and feel your hands pulling me out of my own atmospheric catastrophe Tomorrow I'll wake with no faint memory of this secret life, but it's better Season's grievings fleeting into the pages of my life and none of it matters anymore.