Pensive thought.

Theres reasons why I hold back.

It seems to flow a lot easier when I'm actually in love. But sometimes I wonder have I ever really reached to such a thing? Or was it loneliness and infatuation. In this moment, please don't reply. I just wish to speak my mind for a moment.

Speaking to another soul as if I'm teasing a conversation with myself helps my mind process things.
And conversation is where my greatest poems lie. When I'm able to bare myself to another person.
Old memory paintings and photos of the maiden covered in a sea of silken white, hair that seemed to intermingle with the trees that would dance around her near the lake.

My young self attempted to entreat her heart with a soft breath, and yet she yearned for me secretly, long before I committed to the thought of sending my hands towards her rose-water cheeks.
Stepping in and out of time, but I wonder where my body lays itself to rest, for I have long sacrificed my time towards a world far lofted from what my eye can see.
She lays hidden in the music that bathes my ears in its honey and scented oils. Her lips pressed against mine as I hear that springtime flute fly through the frigid winter air.
In these moments have I learned that it is good to love and be heartbroken than to have never loved at all. But what does one to amend his black-stoned heart?
The fear of falling into the skies causes me to lose sense of all that simply was, and is. My past has long died I'd think, but the memories surge towards me like never before. Re-learning what I've known for lifetimes.

I have not drank fully the wine of sleep in these past two days, for the spirits that watch over me have been speaking to me non-stop in the night.
There is much movement amidst their course, they open themselves fully towards my seared breast.
The scent of a woman who has arisen from her slumber into the brilliant day is likened to the scent of jasmine flowers singing praise to the glory of our Father, as he paints his tears across the  plains of this Earth.

I reminisce when winter months were meant for the times of shaping cocoons. But inside of these little holds were a vast array of good tidings. The smallest nooks were filled with the love and warmth of all those that surrounded us. Some faint memory calls my heart in this night, forcing me to stare at that distant realm. The embodiment of all that i ever held dear, holds me in some intertwining embrace like the roots of an elder oak tree, taking its firm grasp at the earth beneath its feet.

I'm lost in my own thoughts, staring at this fair maiden, draped in robes of emerald and sapphire as she commits her heart to the harp, allowing her fingers to strew forth an ancient song. The notes thereof reach the farthest aspects of my whole heart as I finally lay my head in her embrace