Some days...

Simon: Are you always this sentimental? 
Mal: I had a good day. 
Simon: You had the Alliance on you, criminals and savages... Half the people on the ship have been shot or wounded including yourself, and you're harboring known fugitives. 
Mal: Well, we're still flying. 
Simon: That's not much. 
Mal: It's enough. 

Oh God, please.
Please
Kyrie Eleison
Christi Eleison

Well this sucks.

No words and the sky

Language starts to fail in the utter quiet and open skies of gravel roads blanked in the weight of a summer night.

Three-digit heat has slowly succumbed to the occasional breeze, but it's still warm enough to melt the ice in a Nalgene.

Lying back- Army-issued wool spread over the dust- the sky unfolds. A study in depth and subtle shading, the stars are suddenly so much more visible, more alive and promising.

And language fails.

Doubt thou the stars are fire, 

Doubt that the sun doth move,

Doubt truth to be a liar,

But never doubt I love.

Hamlet

Pops and groans come from the engine as it settles, releasing heat. It's not enough though to disrupt the hush. 

The Big Dipper crackles with heat lightning at the horizon, breathing promise of rain.

The moment is short, but eternal, h

ung between the mundane and the Divine.