To my twin,

I must have watched you move mountains in silence. I must have hidden behind the poorly formed, wispy clouds— shy. Back when we were two thousand feet tall. Back when we were monstrous. Back when we were molding our Earth. Back when we were much stranger in mind and body. Back when we were strangers to each other. I’m certain I watched you pound mountains to fine sand with your bare hands, tearing fissures into tectonic plates. And I’m certain you didn’t notice me at first. As crystalline as the new air, I’m certain I blended seamlessly amongst the wind. My fingertips must have brushed against the edges of your breath, dancing in and out of your lungs when I ventured too close. Yet, I could not resist you. Drawn nearer and nearer by your immense gravity, I could not resist. You were strong. You were permanence. And rock was just a temporary fleeting moment chained to your whim.

Maybe it was an innocuous movement that made you notice me. Maybe my hair licked the sweat from your brow. Yet, our eyes suddenly met. Our gazes locked, and in that moment, I became flesh and bone. Born from the molten pools of your eyes, I felt the first ‘thump’ of my heart.

Did the ground then tremble with excitement or trepidation?

Anticipation?

Would our knowledge of each other herald the beginning or end of the new world?

Millennia would elapse before we found each another again.

And I found myself running—

—low to the ground, swift and effortless like the dire-wolf, I ran. Teeth gritted and bared, my eyes reflected the tattered sunlight. The downed trees drowning in sheet moss could not hinder me. My bare feet barely licked the crests of the green waves as I pushed forward. Faster and faster, I ran. Through endless obstacles and countless breaths, I ran, faster and faster and faster. My lungs were ablaze with an effort so intense I thought flames might crawl up my throat and burst from my mouth. But this was life or death.

I was death.

And I came with a furry and greed for life.

Life took the shape of a small white-tailed fawn, bounding relentlessly a few yards ahead. Leaves and branches dove from our path. I followed the deer so closely I felt its frothy spit hit my brow as it pleaded and cried.

This time— I would not see you first.

You would hear the wicked chase, and Curiosity would beckon you with her long-curled finger, whispering in your ear, “Look here! This way! Fate is this way!” You turned around in a roar of thunder, charging recklessly towards me. Galloping in on your porcelain horse, you were larger than any life the forest had ever provided. You were unattainable, uninhabited and untouched by earthly burdens. You seemed holy, a blinding light astride your Herculean steed. I had to stop running. I had to shield my eyes.

And what did you see when you first laid eyes upon me? Did I appear feral and inhuman, crouched naked and low, with soot and sweat smudging my eyes? Or was I almost familiar? Did my silhouette resemble the shadows that danced around your fire at night? Was I the enigmatic figure tucked around every corner of your dreams? In a blink of your eye I would vanish, slinking back into the underbrush, leaving you with nothing but fear—

—an emotion I’m certain you had never felt before.

You had seen me before, just as I had seen you.

Do you remember how we learned to wiggle out of God’s grasp? With laughter and screams, we would chase each other through the echoing blacks and deep velvet blues of Heaven, running deeper and farther than we ever thought possible. The Waiting Room was so vast, wasn’t it? We never quite reached the end; perhaps there was none, just infinite, directionless beginnings. But we found that small, sunken crevice, the one between Time and Space, where we could embrace until the weight of our love grew so profound it propelled us through to the other side. We would fall through the veil, descending to Earth, one atop the other, our spirits clinging together as one. Our human bodies would begin to materialize quickly, fresh skin weaving around new bone, like a trumpet vine racing towards the sun. By the time we had human mouths and human minds, we had no time to make a sound. A great wall of light would slam into us, cleaving us in two. Engulfed in smothering flames, we were ricocheted into mortality, where we were to begin our new lives apart. But we were never truly distant from one another, not really. Destiny was stubborn, and Luck wielded a sword. And quite frankly, Destiny and Luck could not be reckoned with.

And here we begin this time, meeting as imperfect halves of a bruised fruit. The brownish soft parts, fingerprints from careless, greedy hands. Divinity does taste sweet and crisp.
Maybe I am greedy this time.

Oh, my love, as your hand slides up my back, do you still feel my wings? Your touch unfolds me gently, like a fragile paper angel. But how I long for my wings to be forged from brilliant steel. I yearn to carry us onto a different plane, where our time isn't God’s punchline anymore. If we fell from heavens and did not split apart, if our beginnings were our beginning, what could we create?

What would we create?

Has it been born once or twice before? I cannot remember.

Imagine if our love today fit inside our warm earthly vessels, and my body became the wheel for new energy to form. And when the day comes for this new life to be born, would Dawn break with a breathy sigh tinged with envy? Would the songbirds carry hymns across the oceans, restoring faith to man? Would new hope be cast onto the untouched parts of us, where the sun could never reach?

There’s a lullaby I sing to lull myself to sleep every night, and it sounds like your voice. And I picture you holding her, singing her to sleep.