The fire was lit and the ambers glowed. Later that evening, the stars were born. Down to the water�s edge we ran; elect the spot, elect the night, elect the love. The dock was hard beneath our bare feet and the water cool to each toe, calm and dark, a plate for the night time sky to feast upon. The boundaries of earth and sky distorted into our own complexion. We wore the mask of the sun and the blanket of the night. And the birds were gone and the air was crisp--crisp like leaves, crisp like lips. Fireflies mistaken for shooting stars and whispers mistaken for passion. We convened at the location of the red planet�s choosing, there upon the last platform of the dock. He led us to the edge. He beckoned us closer. Humankind at our fingertips, everything was out of reach. We fell upon our knees, looking for a place to retire our ears between the cracks and hear the right words coming back this way. But the salver cracked under our weight. Like blinded infants, each assumed a turn diving into the unknown darkness. The water swallowed our naked bodies whole. Down into the depths of his kingdom we plunged deeper and farther. We climbed higher and closer. At last, He stood aside his queen of the night once more. He took our hands. Together we waltzed though the field of the sky and put the minds that He granted us to their first use.
We have taken this respite from veracity to share a moment of belonging, and our new God we watched that night.
In two and a half centuries, we will meet with Him again there at the edge of our new world.