A tangle of limbs and hair we lay under geometric rays of light, penetrating through the wooden screen and our minds. 6 breaths, 4 minutes, a week. Time flies and pauses, the two of us left in the midst of stardust, unable to decide if we should slow down or try to catch up. Worry worry. The present lapses and is gone. Excruciating it is to continually lose each fleeting moment. 5 seconds, 2 heartbeats, a month. The light shifts, casting shadows over our bed and our hearts. His fingertips, his eyes. Flooded with longing and desire, we touch, hoping the connection will carry over into the moments apart; that we will remember each intimate sensation-eyelashes tickling my cheek, my lips behind his ear, his smile on my forehead, my stomach against his. 1000 blinks, 2 turns of the sun, a year. The light dissipates to dusk, enveloping the room in a gilded eclipse. Twisted in cotton seams, again we lay bounded, interpolated in time and space. Our golden mean. We meet in the middlemost point of our orbits, where our roots may intertwine and spring into a single source of heart, breath, being. A star, a sun, a spirit. A glimmer blooms, radiating a light that illuminates our home and our souls. 1 pulse, 0 hours, a measureless bond.