You’ve escaped and my own freedom allowed your soul’s release.
How ironic. The Mantis has been duly captivated
I want to feel you, and yet, I cannot.
I cannot feel anything.
 
All sensation has become a waste of time, and time has become a wasted meal.
In the confines of my shredded soul, there is only you and I
 
We sit talking and looking in each other’s eyes wishing words were big enough and gaze could touch. It is as if we must talk, as if we must look, for the power of what dances in the inner mist is too great, too powerful, and would overwhelm us if not stepped down to the limits of our abilities.
I love you in a way song cannot celebrate, for the song is prisoner to its own
form.
What moves here is bigger than the heart, flowing endlessly from nowhere to all places small.
It is greater, more sublime than we, yet being love it loses nothing of itself in the slight confines of this heart, this mind.
Yet, when I saw you next — I beheld a stranger. A face I had never seen, as if the day had quietly become the night and my confused eyes were startled, having seen but not having understood this transformation.
 
What was once the wind, which fanned the fire of my love, was now like ice, like a mean winter’s snow from which all things alive take refuge.
The look that slays more thoroughly than any knife, and eyes like walls of limestone through which no gaze can pierce.
What is that demon which confuses and frightens your love, which turns you toward its own loneliness? What makes the young and tender flower turn brittle in the twinkling of an eye? <
 
Ahhhh. You did not trust the power of that glory born in you.
The small, thinking it was great, now trembles at its own growth.
Walk now, my love, and steal into my arms while the demon slinks away to the darkness of his real attraction. Let us retire to the rapture of the miracle, to the harmless heat of love’s passion where the anxious mind relaxes in the colors, the textures, the grandeur and the music of love unbound.
 
They would say the treasure trapped inside the shell of my misguided angel, is a bounty for a fool.
I am tired now. Let foolishness be.