Your New And Always Life

                Every night when you sleep, you do not sleep but die and wake in another universe. Look around you, what is there today that wasn't yesterday? The man slumbering in your grip stirs. Does he always sleep in your arms? Was it always he? You regard this stranger, scratch idly his dark hair, struggling to recall if their love is one you've always known. Their laugh one you always cherished.

                He wakes, and smiles, and for a while your doubt dissipates. Until morning passes into afternoon and your wandering mind returns to truth's quandary. Something has changed, something in the air. Is it crisper somehow, more fully autumn. The specter of yesterday haunts your memory. The difference always just eludes you, hiding on the fringe, a flitting shadow you cannot name.

                Night returns, and in bed, shadows writhing around you, you wonder what death will bring. You try to stay awake, to notice the moment of passing from one life to the next. To see if maybe then you notice the difference. But always, always, dream's siren call drags you down into fog, perhaps it is the worm hole that drags you from self to self. From life to life.

But from the fog you rise and wake, and wriggle your tentacles. You are as you always were. An amber eight-limbed creature, gliding through Europa's living sea. That breathes and beats beneath an ice shield, adrift in Jupiter's shadow.

Welcome my loves, it whispers. And in its warmth you feel embraced.

You look around you at the brimming life, the harmonious song, trying to spy what changed. You feel every follicle of life, every conscious strand joined in the melody. You sing-see around you, in the lightless sea. Where time passes with indifference, where there is no sleeping, no dying. Only this. The only life you've ever known.