1 AM. Here.
I was driving instead of snoring, because I can't get enough of my girls.
The moon was enormous, and looming at the very edge of the west mountains surrounding the dipping valley. I've never seen it so large in my life. It was a breathtaking color of gold, too. Emphasis on breathtaking. Absolutely beautiful.
And I thought to myself, this time next week, I'll be with Lj.
So I blasted the song, because the music speaks, and my thoughts muffle. Not anything in particular, they just muffle.
It was Rufus Wainwright-- the man singing I mean. There was a baffled king, and he composed hallelujah.
I think I kind of know how that baffled king felt.
Years ago, Brooke and I discussed the meaning of that particular song in the darkness of my car when we didn't want to separate ourselves for curfew and propriety. It happened frequently. We decided that the hallelujah is love; but it is a sad, withered, worn out love. A broken love, maybe.
I've changed my mind a little.
I'm a baffled king composing hallelujah.
My love is coming home.
And we are one in soul, me and Rufus.
But maybe it was just the chords speaking to me.
Because like I said, my thoughts muffle.
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