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Open your eyes, I see the sunrise. It makes a blazing corona of your hair as the playful wind curls into our open tent, bringing the smell of pines and woodsmoke. Your smile says it all, that last night wasn't a dream, but a dream come true. Your fingers curl around my neck, and in the light of a new day, draw me towards your lips. Forgotten heavens and the celestial skies reflect in the expanse of your eyes like a rip in the fabric of time. We kiss. The sky goes out. It is a conjunction of events for the fated such as us are privy; our trajectories collided in a singular moment on the mountains, rescuer and rescued, lost, but not straining for the drone of search flights. The hour in which we are locked, that temporary night of solar eclipses, is sweet kismet.