“ I have dreamed of you so much that you are no longer real. Is there still time for me to reach your breathing body, to kiss your mouth and make your dear voice come alive again?
I have dreamed of you so much that my arms, grown used to being crossed on my chest as I hugged your shadow, would perhaps not bend to the shape of your body. For faced with the real form of what has haunted me and governed me for so many days and years, I would surely become a shadow.
O scales of feeling.
I have dreamed of you so much that surely there is no more time for me to wake up. I sleep on my feet prey to all the forms of life and love, and you, the only one who counts for me today, I can no more touch your face and lips than touch the lips and face of some passerby.
I have dreamed of you so much, have walked so much, talked so much, slept so much with your phantom, that perhaps the only thing left for me is to become a phantom among phantoms, a shadow a hundred times more shadow than the shadow the moves and goes on moving, brightly, over the sundial of your life.”
“Last night I dreamt of you Continuing what we couldn't complete Our salivas intermingling Lips travelling from head to feet Mmmm...whole body tingling Bare on the sheet Our souls singing.... You, the hunter And I, the prey And then The prey becomes the hunter Satiating our hunger But the bodies are not enough Our thirst goes deep To dive into the soul To make each other complete Where its pure and divine”
by Renu Rakheja (a.k.a Tranquil Ocean) extract of DREAM BLESSINGS
Have a Beautiful Weekend Roele I hope you are well, it's been a while since i have heard from you... Kiss, Lilith
Do I love you because you're beautiful, Or are you beautiful because I love you? Am I making believe I see in you A girl too lovely to be really true?
Do I want you because you're wonderful, Or are you wonderful because I want you? Are you the sweet invention of a lover's dream Or are you really as beautiful as you seem?
When ideas float in our mind without any reflection or regard of the understanding, it is which the French call revery, our language has scarce a name for it. ~ John Locke
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