And that's okay

We could float for hours      
without ever seeing the sky        
and that's okay        
        
We could eat all of the same foods        
and tell all of the same stories        
and that's okay        
       
We could fly between antique stores,        
caressing wooden shelves of "what we'll get next time"        
and that's okay        
       
We could actively participate in the pulse of life        
or sit, observant and sentinel as steel        
and that's okay        
       
We could sit in comfortable silence        
while the room around us buzzes with lively breath        
and that's okay        
       
We could stare into each other and just be        
or stare in opposition and just be        
and that's okay        
       
We could laugh at flimsy, weightless words,        
knowing they'll be ancient history sunk into the carpet        
and that's okay        
       
We could swim in a body of conjecture and interjection        
filled by the tides of familiar shores, and liquor        
and that's okay        
     
We could follow the sun in pursuit of a winged chariot        
or follow the moon in hopes of a couch        
and that's okay        
       
We could feel alive running in a breathless, superhuman sprint        
and feel the humbling suffocation once our breath catches up        
and that's okay        
       
We could drive our bodies to the battered limit, knowing their impermanence        
and live knowing all that's waiting for us is infinite        
and that's okay        
       
We could be everything        
and we could be nothing
and that's okay