We were the children beyond knowing.

With the world spread out past the exits, beyond the forests.
Gently hidden in the text, a pulsing mystery, without beginning, without end.
Our fantasies, open and vulnerable.
We were running crosswinds, the universe rushing through our bodies.
We could turn anything inside out.
Between the trunks we slipped, into the streams we stepped,
and the only thing stopping us was dinner calling us inside.