Bestirred

bestirred from winter's dream . . .

787489

his words linger in the air. i feel them like my skin - i feel them like they are my own blood. like daggers they have pierced my heart and they move through my body with every pulse beat. they are my life. his words are my awake-ness and i feel them in my limbs like electricity. i feel him in the cross-hairs, in the fine line that rests between completion and destruction. he is the unknown, and in him is danger, but danger is uncertain. i think about certainty, and i weigh it out. i think about the scales of life, and the certainty that i woke too. in certainty i was conflicted, and in that conflict was tumult. i know few things, but i know with the the absoluteness of certainty that turning back to the she that spent her winter dreaming is an ends akin to death. i know few things, but i know with the absoluteness of certainty that, while he brazenly braves all of the fine lines that separate so many things, i must walk away from my certainty, and toward his playful uncertainty.

i sit an i marinate in his words, and my own duality is pleased - both halves, what is palatable, and what is evanescent like vapor, shake with excitement, and the sureness of a decision made. as if he is my kin, as if he is sure of my sureness, he arrives. he is beautiful.


Aviator, you take too much time to ponder,
The season of Spring you seem to squander.
You need to stop and listen to me,
I'm showing you things, but you refuse to see.
You put so much weight in physicality,
But ignore the purest of purrrr-ity.
It is our hearts that endear us to angels,
The coming of Fall brings with is archangels.


i listen.


Aviator, don't just stare at me!
Remember the things I said about the key?
Do you even understand the knowledge I have to impart?
Your insolence means it's time for me to depart.
It is with much anger and malice that I leave
In my absence together these pieces you can weave!


his words, like the most graceful of dancers and the prettiest of songs, find their way into my heart, and i know this is as it should be. "it is our hearts that endear us to angels" - his words in my memory as if recorded on a tape, they go round and round, again and again. thank-you 7959962 for these words. i know that 7959962 is right, and i know that in my heart is him, and i know, as i too walk that very same line, that this line is love.

love is purity; endearing us to angels.

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