“So the darkness shall be light, and the stillness the dancing.”

                     T.S. Eliot

The grass is wet and cold on my feet. The ground soft and dewy, grass tickling my ankles. I am running. The moon a bright bulb illuminating my path. I smile knowing you are here. You will hold me. I will trace the scar that etches your face from eye to top lip. I love burying the tip of my tongue in the split of your lip. Which life am I at now? What number? Is it almost finished? I haven’t behaved myself well. I have been quite naughty this time around. I feel my soul is already black and weeping. My sweet dream. My shadowman. Gone before I wake.


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