From the train window I can see miles of Pines, they seem to go on forever. There’s a golden wolf howling at the moon, chanting to the midnight Gods. By morning that will give way to Palm trees and screeching Cicadas. Tonight the stars reveal the belly of the world that we all come from. What I have left is a photograph, tell me night-time dreamer, why you hold so many secrets in your heart, whenever we look into each other’s eyes
all we see is star dust.