I long for you. I long to come home and rest on your shoulder wordlessly, no questions asked, I have been questioning myself, the world my whole life. Take me in, hold me gently like a feather who has at last found the Earth, hush my dried lips with your finger which says: no more. Not now. Right now it is time for no time. We will go and bathe in skin and silence. We will dwell in the dark land of children who know nothing of work. Who know only play and the labor of love pulsing through their grass-stained hands, hands they press daily into each other whether fighting or reaching for the places they have yet to discover words for.