I could sense the operation was a bust. It was hit or miss now. We were playing some form of spiritual battleship in our minds and the odds seemed to be stacked heavily against us. As was the ratio of red pegs to a very few white. We were losing, but at least we knew the truth. Every second was an incomprehensible blessing, and likewise, a fucking curse to have the beautiful misfortune of living gracelessly within. We were bottoming out, and as the ship was sinking I remember seeing you standing directly across the tumultuous beat of the waves on the otherside of the dock. The space living between us growing forever further apart and still, somehow, closer than we had ever been. We were gratefully doomed, but not even the faintest sadness would evade us. It was impossible to feel the cool and distant rhythms pulling us away, but I knew they were there. There presence made known by each blistering scream. They followed me in the same way we had been followed by the storm that capsized our boat and left us sinking in this repetition.
Left eternally in the confines of this earthly submission. Though we have not yet lost the mission. Bringing us to an epiphany;
The recollection. A collective objection?