2004-12-13

The Roots That Grew

Delirious again. Dreaming those incomprehensible, portentious dreams. A blanket of gray covers me.

Down by the tree at midnight, the lazy leaves lay flat and drenched in night's silver dew. The pebbled road where the oil lamp lit the lonely path, towards the rose garden, and you came then, dressed in red.

Dressed in red and walking barefoot at dawn with the cold, white floors underneath. The salted waters of the Lake of Wishes filled our golden chalices. Look towards the path my finger points and you'll see the red flowers against the wind. The midnight breeze soft against the skin, gentle on fragile wishes and lilac hopes.

I'd hoped to close my eyes against the gray, cold dawn--gray stones. Back in the cathedral with my black cape draping over my body; walking rapidly through morning, deserted streets bustling with ghosts.

I sat in the beach and facing the ocean breeze, counting the stars, throwing the dried, diamond tears upwards to illuminate the velvet blue. Memories are like waves--the ripples in our tea. Carved into the sand, whispered into the stars, sobbed into the water--our stories are bled out through tears.

Summer came with much delightful surprise, as I learned to play Moonlight Sonata, and saw--in my dreams--a small girl dressed in white and under the antique gold of streetlamps. Jump over puddles and recall memories--things you'd like to share.

I invited you to sail with me one night, accompanied by the songs of whales. Whisper our story inside my ear, and hear the creaking of the boat. Try and paint my face through the darkness.

The roots came and grew out of the tree and through the thick, brick wall; I wanted silence...complete silence as I waited for the moon's silver cloak.

aeka at 8:41 p.m.