I met her years ago, 
I always thought she was beautiful.
Several years have passed, I see her again, 
the image of her seemed to last.
Strong is our connection,  
I can’t get enough of that addiction.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say we’re in love.

She’s always on my mind, she’s my drug. 
It’s what keeps me from dying.
If I said I wasn’t addicted to her, I’d be lying.
She is my only true love, 
and sole reason I’m even trying.
I live for her, and she lives for me. 
I’m addicted. 
It’s where I need to be.

Surreal!
The silence is interlaced with notes.
Phantom notes that don't exist and yet are as real.
Colorless and yet shining in the most awe-inspiring light.
I rise with one
and there is another to catch me like a trapeze artist
before i sore again.
so in tune.
I feel detached from Time.
I used to wonder whether -
time is the proof of my existence
Or my existence the proof for Time?
But the cynic in me is now drunk in tranquility.
Ineffable...
Yet i try to bind this experience in trivial modes of expression.
I have felt this before and am feeling it now,
My consciousness stretched across time;
a sphere that surrounds me.
In this state I AM -  
creation and obliteration;
order and chaos;
knowledge and ignorance;
reality and imagination;
bound and liberated;
the experience and the observer;
here and everywhere;
and NOT.