Gathering the pieces, sorting them out color by color
Finding all the edges and now I think I'm at the sky
Filled with silver-lined cumulus clouds drifting and The blue of my true love's eyes and I'm soaring
At a loss
I don't know how to navigate here, with the stars
In my eyes and the sun in my heart and the wind
Under my sailing self
Where are the edges? What are the rules?
I need to know so I can stay,
So I can keep from erring
And as my panic rises I grasp for straws, flailing,
Plummeting under the weight of waiting
For the storm to hit. And then it doesn't.
He keeps loving me, gentling me, keeps looking at me like
I'm the moon
And my fall's arrested while I try to figure
Where the next piece fits.