Lost

The prickling sensation of cruel air upon fingers tense with waiting, let me know that this was not dream. With breath forming in mystic shapes in front of already misty eyes showed me that it was momentary and now. Angels singing in the guise of birdsong held the spell, all consuming witchcraft that nature wields so well. These are the days, the moments when you fill your eyes and all other senses with the wonder and glory of this life. Drink it in, soak it up through every pore, let every magical and beguiling moment flow in your veins, for, in the ache that stung my long thin fingers lay the balance of life.......beauty and pain.

I watched the day begin, another sleepless night, but my mind was at rest. I watched as the heavens began to wake, drank deeply of the moment when features in the dark crept slowly from the darkness. As hues of breath-taking subtlety and magnificence grew from the rippling waters. The blackbird heralded the light, sung it from the dark, in escalating rhythms it charmed my ears and broke my heart....thank goodness for the stinging finger tips.....for dreaming is what I must be.

To sleep, perchance to dream........for me it's "to waken, fulfill the dreaming".