“Listen.
When the wind blows
all your candles out, when the stars
turn to plumes of smoke,
when your mother makes you watch
as the matches burn out in her eyes,
Let me hold your hand, your skin,
the stones you've swallowed in your sleep.
Let me
slip your soul out of your skin
so you can sleep in my palms
for tonight.”
―
Shinji Moon,
The Anatomy of Being