This dream, this beautiful iridescence, let us just put it into a crystal vase, plant our seeds in and wait until life sprouts. Let us wait together until it grows its tiny little arms and feet, craving for our tight embrace in the cold. Let us pour our sweat and blood down the throat of the angel and wait for time to pass. It will pass swiftly, love, swiftly. We might wake up at night, looking for each other, but he will be there, slumbering, weaving his own dreams, smiling. We will put our little hopes into his food and the joy we sow into him. We will cry happily at the way he talks, when he begins to run, and finally, maybe, when he grows wings for a flight of his own. Maybe we will then be proud, that he was born from the dreams we made, together, in this resting place he left us.