Lightyears between us. Lifetimes. People weren’t meant to think about such things, or reach across such chasms. I knew you once, like a fragment of a dream. But after so much slumber, dreams have been the primary experiences, speaking purely in terms of time, objectively, or as objectively as possible. But time is relative, and time and space are only as different as up and left. They’re not distinct, merely tangential.
You and I were together once. Therefore, we are left to conclude that you and I are still together, because once may as well mean just out of sight. Just beyond the horizon.
Everything that was, still is, if we could only reach it. I’ve long since forgotten where I’m going. Could it be that I’m going back? Back to when I remembered? Back to you?
I find dust sometimes. Coalescing into molecules, or supergiants. Over these spans, the two can be confused; too similar to be distinct.