The box of moonlight has overflowed. We are wading in moonbeams with smiles. The overflowing box of moonlight keeps overflowing and the deluge begins. Once the Hagia Sophia begins to fall, gravity decides swiftly. I am not able to wait. Either you placed your hand in mine or you did not. These are just the facts. The immense is not empty. Some of this will be out of our control. We choose these emotions. These purposes are themselves purposeful. Our wits are with us, and beyond the audacity of our hearts. Once the Hagia Sophia begins to fall, I run with your hand in mine as the pillars crumble behind us. Once the Hagia Sophia begins to fall, I run. Afterwards outside, you cry and I offer comforting. It is beyond my control, but I say to you, “everything is ok.” Overhead a manta ray flies and tells us that we are tender warriors. If this is what my dreams look like now, imagine what they will look like when I sleep in those ruins.