she dreamed the same dream night after night~We are an orchestra of one, we are a majesty unveiling, we are newly born lovers, christening one another with mouths and hands and seeking tongues. We are everything and nothing~ Night is falling. night is falling. and I am drowning. in your arms. I am safe again. I am safe again. You surface me, and cling to me, night is falling and I am in my place again. above you, beneath you, wherever it pleases you so... oh my love, I am home again. My heart has been reborn again. the night is falling. and so am I . Falling for you ( into you, above you, through you). night is falling. night is falling. and so am i. so am i. always for you. for you.

blustarswendy3

~random vintage wendchymes~

prayerful of dreams - 2008-06-28
preschool princess - 2008-06-16
life with my sweetheart - 2008-04-29
the fast approach of four - 2008-04-12
lighting up my own life - 2008-03-08

2002-06-02 - 6:40 p.m.

waltz of words ~in the beginning~

Dearest Wendy~

The exhiliration of a stolen glimpse. Where does it reside? Is the image that our mind holds, so full of hidden detail which we cannot see, yet we know? Does it reveal secrets that we have often imagined? or does it create secrets? I think that is closest. that glimpse let's one wander, exploring what might be. in it we create worlds which otherwise are out of reach. there is a painting I am thinking of. though I do not recall it's name. I believe that it was an 18th century all realism and romanticism. i looked at it, without interest on first encounter. a girl in white on a swing hung from a tree. how dull. inviting nothing from my mind or senses. then i read. and looked again. voyeuristic. that is how the book described it. i thought it was a joke. looking again, there was a man to the left. a somber uninteresting man at that. but wait. where did he stand? directly in front of the young girl on the swing. his gaze focused on her , her dress blown by the wind of her motion. quite shocking. what a story could unfold. how my mind was welcome. the work had spoken and so doing, it became art. this was forbidden. a glance hidden in circumstance. so where is the thrill? the image lasts but a second, then remains only in the mind. what does it become? what is it's power?

and what of this man?

who am i now? different than before. I am a stolen glimpse that lingers. there is water before you. I am beyond it. it falls in torrents between us. crashing on the ground. and in it you see me. through the water and some clean air. and in it you see me like a mirror. do you see what i am building on the other side? ( i am to close i cannot tell)

love~k

old starlight - new starbright

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