Look at me. Cherish this moment, ma'am. We'll never be this young again. Flawless and fragile. Silk for skin and glass for eyes.

     I can see through you. But only to what you wish me to perceive is the truth. We'll make connections, I'm good at talking, always.

     Flattery? No. But I think about you and a better me would jump through hoops to know you.

     Such a relief from my own mind. I create this cell. But it's where I... "sharpen my tools". Get to know me. Ask. I'm more open than you think. What do I have to protect? What am I scared for you to know?
  
     That I'm false? That I don't konw what I am? That I'm confused? I rise and fall in confusion. Uncertainty. Get to know me. I am too, truly. I'm not who I was yesterday, nevermind last week, last month, last year?

Get to know me.

It’s my most illustrious goal. Feel me, be me. I am you. I have felt and continue to inspire. I am the flicker of flames, torching the atmosphere. Raw. Consuming. Effervescent. Touch me. Be warmed. Be amazed. Be in awe.

My soul cries for understanding. Give me the rhythms of Glass, the complicated interflow of melodies, harmonies that make me sick, that give me wings. I stretch my hands, close my eyes and Listen. Don’t miss this.

Ears. Deaf ears. Be quiet for once. Hear. Hear. Be still and Hear. Nothing you will ever amount to could last as long as this legacy. It communicates without stroke, it astonishes without brush, it intrigues without etch, commanding what the eyes cannot see, what the nose cannot smell, what the hand cannot feel. Thus is the glory of song.

Open your ears, study! Lords are speaking to you. We are their medium of communication.

I sit quietly, enveloped in sound, and as my heart stirs, I’m filled with reflective urgency. As if I must abandon everything and go somewhere, but where? NOW! And yet, I’m immobilized by its warmth… yearning for release.

I’m reminded of the happiest times I’ve shared in my life, and for this reason I listen with respectful awareness of its toxicity. It is both addictive and hateful. Never failing to transport my very being to memories of love, comfort and peace.

And yet… it’s bitter. These are the memories of experiences I thought I once mastered. And as I listen to its echoes I am burdened to re-live the loss, the awakening once again, forever.

I awake to see that all is not what it seemed to be. My world is harsh, rash, skeptical: but absolutely never all the way real.

Hm, a dream.  And always knew it. Deep down I knew and still I stifle instinct, ******* experience, and choke doubt. It is mine and I use it to fulfill me.

This song is short, but it commands deep within me feelings of such a range of love and devotion that I’m left frightened, exhausted, void. Could I have had that much to give?   Yes.

Let the sounds live through you, and as your heart stirs, know that you are human.

Begin to listen, begin to hear. This lamentation begs for empathy, so rejoice! You are not alone. You are quite human, perfect: alive.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjiUgN0HuPg&feature;=plcp

I listen for you, dreamer.
It’s lovely to hear what you remember at night.

Remember and see, dreamer.
See me dance through blissful memories that delight.

Sweet memories true, dreamer.
Relive them, smile, but hold on to what, this night?

Hold tightly to me, dreamer.
Humbly, it’s all I dare desire… your light.
---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---  
My heart? Uplifted, by internal song.
Melodies, until now, have been quite wrong.

Falling, crisp air folds,
Sculpted by the angels,
This moment, our time.

Eyes awake, I embrace you.
Crystal smile back.

We dance through ephemeral bliss,
Sharing passing solace.
In so rare a moment, I ask,
“Please Last”
As I indulge in your smell.

Hot breath on neck…
Melting. Always melting.
You’re so soft.

Tighter and tighter I squeeze
Thaw becomes inevitable.
The fantasy is fleeting,
Desperation outcries pleading – “Stay”

“Your sparkle delights me”
And still you vanish.

“When will I see you again” I mused,
Water running from finger tips.

“In reverie”