Friday April 18, 2008

I dream sometimes of the city. I paint idyllic pictures in my head, perfect scenes all happening at dusk, soft music plays in the background, people are seen in all those positions that give the scene such a wistful feel, gritty and real and emotionally safe and indulgent. None of it reflects the reality of my future spent in a city of the magnitude I'm dreaming of. I find it strange that we can imagine perfection encompassing a place so much larger than we can even process all at once. My life as a mere mortal binds itself to the walls of a square city block, my senses and their capacities stretching no further. The delectable sensory opportunities are counterbalanced by isolation, a self-appointed mantle that hangs like a shroud. My regular journeys inward, expeditions through the landscape of the mind, far outshine mindless trudging on cold concrete paths.
I don't know what I'm doing with my life. Well, I know I'm living it successfully. That's about it though. What is the definition of a successful life?

I'm sorry we haven't spoken in quite some time, the fault that makes this distance, I know that fault is mine, I awoke with the strongest urge, feathers brushing past my lips, heart that skips a beat, light hands touch my fingertips, my eyes scan the lines that make your face, your descent makes paradise this place, touch awakens inner light, embrace burning back the night, I feel inside the reaches of my calm awakened mind, a heart to beat in time with yours - a soul to spark in kind, I pray before the goddess wings attempting at the sky, I ask you Lady Isis let this last until I die....