Sunday, May 13

Can you hear me answering?

Silver threads and magick steps, that's what this story's written in. How long did I sleep for this time I wonder?

I sleep to dream so I can simply be astounded by how pale my dreams are compared to the light show that awaits me when my eyes open again. This light show is you. A steady love, an unwavering gaze, a cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-live kind of promise that's been alive since before any you or any I. Deep down I know this feeling is the fibre all universes, great universes, are made of.

Love blazes in all directions. Stop. Breathe. And take it all in. Let it wash out and wash away anything that would make you believe that you are in anything other than a cosmic embrace that masquerades as the various faces of love that dance before you. They're all my face, or your own, which ever angle makes it known that all there ever is, is love and loving. That is all that occupies all the space between us and everywhere else.

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