Eternally tied, stitched together with golden thread; glistening with transparency. Stalactite ordain the caved ceiling, dripping water into the thirsty mouths of all the greedy ants below. Another night of insomnia; or so it seems at least. For sleep fails to find eyes… eyes which are wide. A yearning? Perhaps... certainly not an obsession. Obsessions are dark and unnatural. This is energetic-fluid almost. I finally found the title of my last writing; I called it “Twin Flame.” Serendipitous I know, but how else could you possibly describe it? No rationality to it-at least not in the physical realm; oh, philosophical for sure. Could it be possible that the gods and angels play such vicious tricks? Methodically planting two people to meet-in a very peculiar, almost non-eventful way, only to have their gaze meet and then ravage befalls their minds? Could it be a simple case of Freudian projection? Staring blankly into the quiet stillness, I feel almost as if I should have went to bed early... Although… as I slipped further into the abyss of his dark and worried nature-it felt as though I was somehow home at last. Safe, secure, and completely authentic. Nothing to hide; all laid bare with only him to mirror my deepest and most haunting imperfections. It’s been ten days since we last spoke-and thousands of kilometres lie loosely in between.