Searching
Cold nite descends and a body shivers in its cloak of darkness. This body,
her own, has no other to embrace. She lies alone there, in that desolate place,
thinking back over all the lost loves, all the great mistakes, all the wasted
hours that can never be reclaimed again. Regret? More like acceptance. A
reluctant acceptance of all that has come and gone. She never meant to hurt
anyone. That has to count for something...right? In the search for herself, she
left behind many, and yet more still were the ones who left her behind. In the
faint mist. In the veil of stars and of the moon. The shifty, callous moon, that
winked its sleepy eye at her as she gazed up from below.
She has always been a kind of solitary practitioner, a wayward soul who
travels the greatest journey with no one but herself for company. With no one to
follow or to walk beside her but her own shadow. She prefers this. Or so she
says. But secretly, she knows. The truth lies in what she is seeking after. What
is she looking for on this journey? Love. A kind of love wherein there is no
pain, no abandonment, no regret, no holding back. Only trust, complete
acceptance, understanding, appreciation, sharing. It exists out there,
somewhere. Even for her. Of this she is sure. And so she goes on into that same
beckoning nite again and again. Ever seeking, always searching, never willing to
give up or to let go. The lure of the dream, too great to be denied. Or
released.
She lies in her bed quietly, calmly, neither awake nor asleep. Rather, she is
in a sort of twilight wakefulness, where all things are attainable and within
her delicate grasp, if only she can reach just a bit further. This state is
illusive, however, and she knows it. So instead, she chooses to roll over and
hide behind her pillows, silken strands of hair splayed out like brilliant gold
ropes all around her, almost like a halo. Love. Love is what she lives for. The
love of a man who protects her, who wraps her in velvet and satin and holds her
close, so close to him. All she wants to do is to be there, in his powerful
embrace. If only for a moment...a precious, fleeting moment in time.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she arises. She throws open the
windows behind the billowing curtains and allows the warm bay breeze to blow in.
She loves it here, always. Here, on the crystal bay where she can see for miles
and miles before her. The horizon encourages her to dream, to not lose sight of
the dream, to hold onto the dream. All possibility lies out there, in the great
beyond. What might she find in her travels today? A lark? A truth? A friend? She
turns to gaze at herself in the mirror on the wall. Familiar, the face who
stares back at her, yet the eyes seem forlorn, hollow. What is missing? The
love, always the love.
Today is a day of importance. This day, no trivial matter, to be sure. For
she is determined to find the one whom she seeks. He comes to her at night, when
she is alone in her bed, surrounded by the netting, the candles, the lace. He
visits her in her dream state, in her twilight wakefulness. He walks, and she
follows. She follows him into the darkness, into the shadows. The crescent moon
ushers her along, the stars light the way. Those fiery, hopeful stars! Slowly
she walks behind him. Close enough to see him clearly, yet not close enough to
touch, or to be touched in return. Instead, he teases, he beckons to her. She
tries to keep up, but she can't. Her legs feel mired down in quicksand. With
each step, it is harder and harder to take another. But she has to reach him.
She must!
Thinking back on the dream, she prepares for her day. For this is the day
when she will find what she is looking for. No idol matter this...searching of
the soul. She will be completed. She will find the answer she is seeking. Its a
thing that she can't do without anymore. Yet what happens outside these walls,
these walls filled with her portraits, with her paintings? What happens outside
these walls which contain all of her deepest desires, and fears? Only the moon
knows her secrets, for she tells not a soul. This solitary practitioner, this
dreamer of dreams, this gatekeeper of unrequaited love...she takes a hot bath,
she puts on a lovely dress, she brushes her long blond hair...she, with a beauty
even the angels covet...takes one last look at herself in the mirror, then
floats across the room. She wraps her cape around her shoulders, feverish with
anticipation of what lies ahead. She gazes back out across the crystal bay, then
walks through the door, and, pulling it shut behind her, she does not look back
again.
Cold nite descends and a body shivers in its cloak of darkness. This body,
her own, has no other to embrace. She lies alone there, in that desolate place,
thinking back over all the lost loves, all the great mistakes, all the wasted
hours that can never be reclaimed again. Regret? More like acceptance. A
reluctant acceptance of all that has come and gone. She never meant to hurt
anyone. That has to count for something...right? In the search for herself, she
left behind many, and yet more still were the ones who left her behind. In the
faint mist. In the veil of stars and of the moon. The shifty, callous moon, that
winked its sleepy eye at her as she gazed up from below.
She has always been a kind of solitary practitioner, a wayward soul who
travels the greatest journey with no one but herself for company. With no one to
follow or to walk beside her but her own shadow. She prefers this. Or so she
says. But secretly, she knows. The truth lies in what she is seeking after. What
is she looking for on this journey? Love. A kind of love wherein there is no
pain, no abandonment, no regret, no holding back. Only trust, complete
acceptance, understanding, appreciation, sharing. It exists out there,
somewhere. Even for her. Of this she is sure. And so she goes on into that same
beckoning nite again and again. Ever seeking, always searching, never willing to
give up or to let go. The lure of the dream, too great to be denied. Or
released.
She lies in her bed quietly, calmly, neither awake nor asleep. Rather, she is
in a sort of twilight wakefulness, where all things are attainable and within
her delicate grasp, if only she can reach just a bit further. This state is
illusive, however, and she knows it. So instead, she chooses to roll over and
hide behind her pillows, silken strands of hair splayed out like brilliant gold
ropes all around her, almost like a halo. Love. Love is what she lives for. The
love of a man who protects her, who wraps her in velvet and satin and holds her
close, so close to him. All she wants to do is to be there, in his powerful
embrace. If only for a moment...a precious, fleeting moment in time.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she arises. She throws open the
windows behind the billowing curtains and allows the warm bay breeze to blow in.
She loves it here, always. Here, on the crystal bay where she can see for miles
and miles before her. The horizon encourages her to dream, to not lose sight of
the dream, to hold onto the dream. All possibility lies out there, in the great
beyond. What might she find in her travels today? A lark? A truth? A friend? She
turns to gaze at herself in the mirror on the wall. Familiar, the face who
stares back at her, yet the eyes seem forlorn, hollow. What is missing? The
love, always the love.
Today is a day of importance. This day, no trivial matter, to be sure. For
she is determined to find the one whom she seeks. He comes to her at night, when
she is alone in her bed, surrounded by the netting, the candles, the lace. He
visits her in her dream state, in her twilight wakefulness. He walks, and she
follows. She follows him into the darkness, into the shadows. The crescent moon
ushers her along, the stars light the way. Those fiery, hopeful stars! Slowly
she walks behind him. Close enough to see him clearly, yet not close enough to
touch, or to be touched in return. Instead, he teases, he beckons to her. She
tries to keep up, but she can't. Her legs feel mired down in quicksand. With
each step, it is harder and harder to take another. But she has to reach him.
She must!
Thinking back on the dream, she prepares for her day. For this is the day
when she will find what she is looking for. No idol matter this...searching of
the soul. She will be completed. She will find the answer she is seeking. Its a
thing that she can't do without anymore. Yet what happens outside these walls,
these walls filled with her portraits, with her paintings? What happens outside
these walls which contain all of her deepest desires, and fears? Only the moon
knows her secrets, for she tells not a soul. This solitary practitioner, this
dreamer of dreams, this gatekeeper of unrequaited love...she takes a hot bath,
she puts on a lovely dress, she brushes her long blond hair...she, with a beauty
even the angels covet...takes one last look at herself in the mirror, then
floats across the room. She wraps her cape around her shoulders, feverish with
anticipation of what lies ahead. She gazes back out across the crystal bay, then
walks through the door, and, pulling it shut behind her, she does not look back
again.