Sunday, December 04, 2011


He haunts my dreams. Entering and then backing away on dates and times unknown. A foolish connection of unmet desire. I looked in your eyes hoping for fire. The passion was gone, left on the stage and I stood there and cried, hoping for rain. My hands type words that I wish I could say. I'm desperate to fill up your heart with the truth of a hope more solid than I even know. Everything in the dusky days feels like the daytime fantasies of a small child, creating stories in her head because the reality is to hard to deal with. On certain days I wonder about his ability to dreamwalk and see that which is so rarely that why he comes in and out, with the evasiveness of spirits and dreams? Dreamcatchers, feathers, spirits and Christ...the tokens of entry into a holistic life they sit on a shelf and gather dust as of late. Maybe someday they will carry a bit more weight. This spirit or being is like a vinyl record playing in the other room...the nostalgia for things past and things yet to come.

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