Republic of two

Our wicked dreams are in that place where the horizon kisses the sky. In that time when the day begins from the embrace of the night, there is our naked sweaty love. Where rays are being made, there we crave in a burning lust. In the magic of the pale moon glow our desires are born. Our enchanting future lies in the kingdom of what’s undreamed. In the depth of your womb, our lives meet and merge into new beginnings, brave new worlds created solely from the fabric of us. With the strength of all I have, even in the weight of my thoughts, I protect. These faces may grow old, but our souls may burn with the consistency of this ember of our youth. 

Here, on the rampart of the republic that is us…

Magic;)

Magic is reign of the soul, a horizon at the far end of things, high above all kingdoms of heaven, far beyond deepest tars of hell. She places ground into those remote layers of air, a ground where human imagination begins to roam free… this realm of the soul, out of time and beyond dimensions, endless – just like the soul herself.

Magic is revealed for the naked eye, all she requires is having a little faith, she feeds and grows only on faith. Through thin strings she connects daydreaming with reality and dreams with all waken worlds, she’s a clear border separating apart lies from the single truth – because truth has no plural.

A condition, this affinity to be seduced by the source of all colors, and for the life of me – I am seduced! Magic can be only defined as charms and beauty, imperfect and incomplete, as they’re meant to be!

Rhythms of Life

Pinching impulses in the cortex, something like endless waves on the shores of my consciousness. Always creating and working out of time, this tireless gear transmission resistant to the grinding force of abrasion. Wireless thoughts of new beginnings welcoming as the dawn itself, seductively promising horizons beyond a horizon. This place is on the edges of reason, where voices holler feelings; there things exist restructured down to their scents – elemental parts creating the one dome that is me.

In such a place of the mind beings are without form. There, contours of the body are no more. Because the spirit is weightless and it’s composed of a mix of nameless colors; a niche of perception pulsating with energy as if it’s reborn every time, traveling from one heartbeat to the other. And with each succeeding pulse it gets louder and brighter, just for the thrill because it can;)

Rhythms of life… and somewhere in there – the beginning of who I am!