I am thinking about you today.
And I am trying to write about you today.
Slowly, the reality of your existence has been eroding away from the soil of my mind, by the misty winds of painful memories. And a fog is gathering on my mind and on my perception of reality. And what is the sense of reality? Only that which is temporal, imperfect, impure and that which will die tomorrow. You will die tomorrow, and then me.
As the sense of reality erodes away, the surreal fog takes over, and your existence takes on a new form. Detached from a sense of reality, and all its imperfections, it is now pure. You live inside me now, transcended beyond reality, pure and innocent, like the first morning on this earth. You live inside me now, a part of me which is immortal. You will live even after I die.
You are a sweet pain, a mild heartache which is almost pleasant. The edges of your memoriesare blurred into the incoherence of my sub-consciousness and you become a part of it, present in all and everything behind a thin veil of incoherence.
I know it’s a dream, a dangerous dream. A downward spiral towards insanity, and then…emptiness.
But I can’t stop. It’s as if you are calling me. And it’s all painfully beautiful, here inside me, that I can’t break the spell.
There is no end. Only an eternal longing…