Time stops, you contend.
I watch. I listen. I try to contend, attempting to fight off this liqueured stupor.
You are the warrior. I am the peasant. I see a beatific mystic you; the eternal bliss.
Maybe I am the eternal bliss. Perhaps you are.
I succumb to your tainted rhythms. I become you. I submerge in your beauty.
And suddenly I am beautiful, just like you.
You laugh, I giggle, wondering what you meant, trying hard to follow your voice, and articulate mine.
But you understand me, and in reality I understand you too. Sometimes though, I just canít get through the boundaries of your heart, and I can not lower the cold steel walls, that guard your soul, like gargoyles protecting ghouls, it is hopeless.
It is like a serendipitous voyage into the unknown. I seek, but I do not find.
I know exactly where it is, and what it is, but it is somehow unreachable.
I continue to venture.
I venture to worlds that I can not comprehend. It is like life without blood.
A life that is unique to you and I, both in different ways, but we unite regardless.
Like in the hands of Angels, we fly . . . but we do not feel . . . no longer needing the maculation of fluid among substance . . . blood penetrating tissue, muscle feeding bone, or a brain nourishing a thought.
We drift in our own stream to the estuary of our spirit. It is there, in an ocean of fire and ice, where it all comes together . . . like one.
I order another drink, and drown in the moment. Time stops, you contend.
M and T.