Secret Lives In the dark of the early morning before the light dissolves the night, the pain of a natural yearning creates a world from adventures left to desires chagrin and to the hallowed halls of faithfulness. When we wander through the corridors of memory and all things that could have been do our senses prick, the aura of another life like the touch of an unseen hand or the gentle brush of lips through a half opened door? Is it fair to keep a room that is always out of view with a key that hangs by a thread behind the brick on a ledge for encounters when the moon is wane and darkness is adored? The dark, secrets pool in the unconscious mind and overflow in dreams and fantasy drifting through passages we construct when time constricts our ability to comprehend our everyday shadow that becomes who we are, though often it is a stranger. Close your eyes and be anywhere, with anyone in passions grip without need to stifle it. The inexplicable deceit in sleep, where we wonder where we will; sometimes through the fields of horrors, sometimes absurdity but often there is sensuousness without constraint, without resolution just the mind exploring the instinctual. There is freedom here, where ever it is we go, but as with all fire sleep can burn if it becomes a walk a way from who you are.
Posted on: Tue, 17 Sep 2013 03:02:50 +0000
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