I’m here. I’ve not gone anywhere to speak of, but to dream of, to imagine I’m her champion because I spoke of Love. Her undying eternity of Love…
You’re late! Where did you think you were? Who did you imagine you were? Why would you supplant belief with something that’s absolutely knowable?
The air speaks to the wind to the tree to the leaf to me. Shall I run before it’s too late? Am I alive enough to see what’s happening before it is too late?
Dream your dreams, thread them through the eye of your belief.
© 2011 by mark prime
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