A friend visits me today and shares this: "I see in you two souls. The verifiable past, the facts of who you are, a book. And the *beautiful* future of what you could be, a fantasy. Ripped apart by a touch of sparks, rain, bright raindrops on the windshield, Your form changes, and past and future dance across your skin, Muse, creating the present. The explosions have settled and I'm left with dreams of your fresh ghost It's best to watch it fade, but I wish it wouldn't Must I bury you, again, in this fresh rain, too? I would like to spend time with you, bleeding. Blood had like mint leaves awakened my senses And though I was fumbling the breeze was delightful And I could feel and I could sense and I could touch dreams previously distorted by reflections I am back to the routines and the real and the razor has dulled and I dream less and devour less and drink in this simple life God has gifted me to kill time and grow and nurture and learn but my spirit calls to be destroyed, again. Muse, cleave me in two so I can separate land and sky once more." ![[C04B1F1F-F77A-45B9-A6AD-043B273F2C8D_1_105_c.jpeg]]