Do I believe in magic? Of course, I am still chasing naiveté

It all began in the most ordinary fashion. Yet, there was a vast beauty and more particularly, significance, to this specific night, not known to most humans living on earth. On the highest green peak of the tallest mountain, the wildest of flowers bloomed only on such occasions. I am, of course, describing the hours between midnight and three in the morning, on the sixth day after every sixth full moon. Any doubts that you may possess about the accuracy of this tale must, at this very moment, vanish, for I do not spread lies.

A tall, frail-looking man stepped forward; seemingly, he appeared right from the steady trunk of the linden tree. Draped across his downward swooping shoulders was a burgundy cloak so long that it dragged across the leaf-covered path. The walkway resembled a boulevard, but with an unpaved natural foundation found in woods of this latitude and covered with foliage of varying vibrant colours. The almost-boulevard opened onto a steep downward slope and at daybreak, the most magnificent sunrises in the world could be observed while perched upon a rock, not far from the beautiful linden. {...}

I am finding it [quite!] difficult to maintain a straight {interested} face when conversing with you. There are manymany more engaging thoughts floating through my mind…
activities I could partake in…
locations far away… places that you will never visit where I may discover new secrets

I dislike you for taking parts of me – pieces you can never comprehend.
Masterful appropriation is an art – just consider Picasso for a moment.
You have not mastered this; you never will.
You can never know what I see,
Nor will you ever find out.

Distance
I have been told
The whispering hushed winds
Softly
Reiterating
Clearing my mind
Walking the night
Clarity
Thinking of
A melody,
A moment,
A scent,
Another time,
Another you

Fleeing
Reality
in
Solitude

I find it so pleasing to discover old sketches of loved ones...

Amour chassant un oiseau

1902, Picasso

A lone figure,
slightly obscured horizon,
Alone



Thoughts of
floating along on a solitary thin
calm

La courbe de tes yeux

La courbe de tes yeux fait le tour de mon coeur,
Un rond de danse et de douceur,
Auréole du temps, berceau nocturne et sûr,
Et si je ne sais plus tout ce que j'ai vécu
C'est que tes yeux ne m'ont pas toujours vu.

Feuilles de jour et mousse de rosée,
Roseaux du vent, sourires parfumés,
Ailes couvrant le monde de lumière,
Bateaux chargés du ciel et de la mer,
Chasseurs des bruits et sources de couleurs,

Parfums éclos d'une couvée d'aurores
Qui gît toujours sur la paille des astres,
Comme le jour dépend de l'innocence
Le monde entier dépend de tes yeux purs
Et tout mon sang coule dans leurs regards.

~ par Paul Eluard

Dangers of sharing, letting in
I’d like to watch –
watch and sit,
watch and walk
possibly, walk away
listening to these
sounds that
speak
to my dejected moods
I see the bare, naked, reality
A beautiful contribution –
The possibilities escape.
Not my own
But this truth fears
the cold bitter daylight
it flees from the harsh winds, grey skies and Fall rain

more of E.E. Cummings

(a

le
af
fa
ll

s)
one
l

iness

It dawns on me
there is something so beautiful
in pure, calm, unsoiled motivations
that are only possible when
in the fight with time, one is not yet defeated

he was so very gentle
that it was poetic

la luna
las estrellas
las ondas

His name resonates in my mind
As his touch reverberates through my bones