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

2006-06-26 - 9:50 p.m.

Sierra is sleeping, the sweet uncomplicated sleep of the truly innocent. and like all mothers, I love nothing more than to watch her sleep, a constant flicker of peace streaming across her precious silenced face.

and I study her angles, her smoothness, her deeply pink mouth, the architecture of her nose, and the round eclipse of her moon pie face, which is losing some of it's roundness, the baby faced ness is lessening, giving way to the emergence of more defined toddler...

and still her look changes so much, like the surface of a lake... whichever way the wind is blowing.. colours deepening and brightening, and when she is awake, she looks more like me, than she ever will, when she is sleeping. when she is awake, it is the vibrancy of her facial expressions, encoded in some mysterious D.N .A. that seems to come through the lines, chaining us all to the past... and in one moment, she is her father, in the next she is all ME, and a second later, she is her cousin.. and sometimes she is someone that I have never before seen or met

and when I am looking at her perfect little sleeping form, drinking in the moment, savoring it with the melancholy knowledge that this is my only child, my only heart, the only best thing that ever has / ever WILL happen to me, I search her face for so many clues... I wonder about all the faces of the past, the babies that came and went and came and went and beget and beget and beget... and beget, the ancient buried faces of her/mine/our anscestors.. of how exquisitely precious every child is in this world, and I wonder, and I hope/wish/pray that every mother looked at her child, the way that I look at mine...

with my spinstery heart breaking a little bit, overwhelmed with love...trying so hard to hold on to such constantly evolving exquisiteness and the sweetest of all innocence...all the while slightly afraid to remember the whole truth of the past, hopeful to imagine the dream every mother dreams for her child's future... and always always always always in wonder and total gratitude to the universe for such a beauty filled gift.

I love her so much, the only way that she can ever fully experience how much I love her will be when she watches her own child sleeping, her face flickering, with all the ghosts, all the passions and tragedies merging, all the complicated bitterandsweet beauty of a life lived well. and in that moment she will be everymother. she will be me glimpsing the face of a thousand beautiful faces at once animating the light of my very own heaven and always guiding me home again.

old starlight - new starbright

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