Written with the lovely Ms. Erotic Energy
Each of us, alone… we draw the other in. Crave the other’s attention, looking for a break in the shadows where our light can shine through.
Shadows hanging as curtains, yet powerless to contain in fullness the depth of life contained within the light. The light running as water to the place of least resistance. Always finding a way to shine forth. Curtains opening to our stage, where we perform our love story, the light now spotlight, now moonlight bathing us in its warm glow, now starlight under which our wishes come true.
Wishes long thrown to the wind to be carried to their places of rest. Awaiting the right season to be transformed by conditions which seem harsh and unseemly. A breaking of will to reveal a root, a stem. Pain of growth. Pushing upward and onward. Until finally, with time, fruition. The sweetest, most tempting fruit comes from those seeds of hardship and strife. The passing ages are sunbeams marking time, bringing rain and sustenance to the bleakest ground, filling it with life and happiness.
And so stands on the stage, two. Both basking in various arrays of light and personal enlightenment. Seeing the curtain draw back, the light emerging in its forms of glory. Hearts quicken. Lines unrehearsed. Nay, unwritten. Time holding its breath in quiet wonder. They, alone. No audience to await the opening stanzas.