Eddies of Love

For my beloved:

I do not question. Instead, I thank you for such sublime, abandoned moments outside of ordinary space/time where we become consummately entwined. 

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The Calling

Spirit:

Come, come and meet me there, there where is neither. Where reality and unreality merge, where the lines are blurred and crossed, fixed in a point of being unfixed. A gatweway and hole in space/time.

Come, come meet me there, be there until fear prickles your skin, sweat trickles down your back, unable to turn back, let fear give way to Beauty.

Come, I will meet you there.

In A Younger World.

 Yuletide In A Younger World By Thomas Hardy

We believed in highdays then,
And could glimpse at night
On Christmas Eve
Imminent oncomings of radiant revel—
Doings of delight:—
Now we have no such sight.

We had eyes for phantoms then,
And at bridge or stile
On Christmas Eve
Clear beheld those countless ones who had crossed it
Cross again in file:—
Such has ceased longwhile!

We liked divination then,
And, as they homeward wound
On Christmas Eve,
We could read men’s dreams within them spinning
Even as wheels spin round:—
Now we are blinker-bound.

We heard still small voices then,
And, in the dim serene
Of Christmas Eve,
Caught the far-time tones of fire-filled prophets
Long on earth unseen. . . .
—Can such ever have been?