(Her touch in thought reality...)


Potential. In observing the stance of she, one finds, when they are open to the sight, a more than pictorial consideration of breath. When she stands, she rises more than tall, and yet never exceeds the sight limits of earth. Her eyes shade themselves light as she flows her wing caresses through day. And when she smiles, her presence holds open the sky as would an aching Redwood. She speaks not of knowledge but stands wholly within its center.

Holding herself to these earth streets as a natural play in her dance, she moved the streets behind her. Allowing her edges their freedom, she rages, a tempest freed from the confines of itís storm. Her hair seemingly ever long plays mischievously with all the watching godís awareness. On sight, her body displays a rigid diversity of solidity. Yet across the ever night sides of her eyeís side seeing, a sense of definite as timed movement prevails.

Rising to a beyond here stance, he leaves the bed; opening but once more to the glance of his leaving now. She lies folded in a corner clinging to herself. Light stretching crackles deep across his fourth heightened awareness. For a moment he slipped,

blackening into a fall, that is the pit of his own self. In a first he met his body, fully aware of each tendril in touch. They are touching; her fingers dance inhibited in a tightness, wound in his grasp. She stood. She moved, as tightly clothed as was his grasp, along his moving side. They were figures jerking silently across a non-reflecting green carpeting. Their eyes having forgotten a sun stance, called their movement unattached to the sunís above holding. He knew of their directed movement, of its here, of its there soon to be, but he held this knowing not. A filled void of matchless colors held his called sight, as together with her he followed the still parted earth path.

As her sight slipped, he seemed almost ready to balloon away. This sensing called her but to tighten her inner self, all the more closer to herself and in her sound place. To hold her grip ever more secure onto him. Anticipation was beating through her as sound reverberating through an empty drum. She knew, of where her each step must land; as of where, from what she must pull a yet to be now.

His distance, not by an act of space, but through an air of non-totality, held her awareness, pinching along itís ever edge. She pushed this knowing as far away as she might, without breaking that last touching hold. He shivered, and in thinking himself cold,

turned his glance towards her. Barely noticing her eager smile, he brought himself to a quiet stop. Without movement he felt an empty need to pull her close. Obeying, she allowed herself to be pulled through and then again beyond his focus.

Her skin stretched in a yearning motion, against the feel of his touching body. Her clothes grew tighter about her breasts and as so, yearned to break free and burst open against his naked skin to be inhaled, absorbed. As she struggled with him toward the open earth below, she stretched her legs tense and wide to feel the pushing of her clothes, pulling from between the hairs; she screamed to be pushed, heavily touched. In so she wrestled him closer. He was tired, but found his body following some unknown ceremony. Suddenly her hand appeared, and in touch he met, warmth growing within himself. His eyes closed to listen. Slowly he relaxed and felt a learned yearning call his body tall, yet not tall enough. Opening his eyes, he found her rising herself between his legs. Conscientiously unconscious he waited; his body called her closer. Reaching he reached and then pulled her ever closer. Jerking unevenly, they pushed with their bodies, struggling to reach through each other and back to themselves once again.

Standing alone, she was lost within her gaze. She felt herself as a pinhole placed through an earth map. Breathing, she felt as a universe of air poured through her point of holding. Trees clashed melodically with trees. Becoming lost to dreams, not quite unreal, she loosened herself from this earth placing. To drift back that she may pass into a softly spoken distance. Watching as her once place folded back into an earth-sky whole, she began to wonder. She knew, as to the where was she that she was growing smaller to greet.

Seemingly on an edge he stood, staring out across a world far too distant. For the moment she was pushed aside in his awareness. In feeling his present aloneness he savored it. And though it frightened him, a deep yearning held him there tightly alone. A strangerís strength invaded his body, and in it he saw himself. In this new awareness

he touched himself. Turning his eyes from himself, he faced his whole body out towards the sky. He sensed itís long and empty. Yet still it held an all place for life. There was a breath that waited to be breathed. In the clouds that seemed to lie soft spoken in

his hands, he came to sense an eternal only-ness. And in a split sight he saw a once world distinctly complicated and ever distant.

The weight of his body was being displaced from one world , into another. As so his awareness drifted out from his eyes sight and down. He could hear those unknown words forming themselves close. As a ball of color free he bounced, from earth sight to earth sight. With each touch he found himself becoming of color. This color in its shading movement spread through the walls of his ball with a failing of rich blood blowing its strength into the every part of an animal form. Cells stretched out beyond themselves, arching into an ever fit against their fellow breathers.

An eternity of words whole, phrases complete, became a tunnel through which his walking placed him. Reaching himself out he searched its length for an end, finding the feel of but eternity. He sensed himself meaningless in a glimpsing thought. The walls spoke to him of a childís passing spectrum. And the words came from behind to pass into the ever distance that lied open before him. But the speed with which these live creatures passed made them too distant for his touch to reach out and hold. He became loosely secure and a new thought exploded within him. Would these walls hold him, or would they at any time disperse and fling him empty into nothingness. He held onto his non-movement for the security of a world that seemed too lost for him to ever stand his feet, as his eyes solid again. He grew hearing the colors of his life taking forms so strange that he feared, he was no longer the he, he had grown to meet.

As she appeared in the sight of their first meeting, he knew in a whole and immediate thought, that she was his last door into that secure world of direct color. Yet he watched, drowned by the dimensions, of a sight distinctly in his memory and yet distorted from all its known perspectives. With each passing, each chance, he grew more tense while aware of the door diminishing. He cried his child's tears that he might not pass back through that door. But his fear knew him too well. It began arching his energy of light, to the point of his losing his known form.

Don't move, this tunnel is you... But these words dissipated even before they were completed. His being jerked, and in that point of decision he threw himself quickly into the almost gone door. He sensed concrete first, and then slowly a world of other faces, of known realities exploding quietly back onto his awareness. He stood quiet, audibly shaking, atop this hill, which was a city of earth. Becoming aware and then glancing at his watch, he knew that she was waiting. He ached for her be become present, and so quickly began walking. Concentrating her picture onto the echoing of his steps, he tried to close over the loss of time he had just experienced.

She smiled warmly as he rose from their bed. She opened her eyes to every inch of his naked flesh as it situated itself against the dim light that arched indirectly across her room, from windows never quite covered. She touched her hands about her reddened

breasts. They were warm, and happily she thought, would remain so. They were to be married. And a deep kiss came just as she expected.

As the door latched closed behind him, he met a new and bighting taste in the air. He smiled as it related him back to the warmth he knew that would continue to hold his body straight. He started walking, intending himself to head home. But he took no notice of his direction. He was detached, flowing in a warmth that held him secure. Time flowed with him or so he took for granted.

The ring glistened gold around its black carvings as it rose from the ground. Her fingers toyed with it subconsciously as she continued to walk. But as distance became, so grew an awareness that this object belonged not to the time of her holding. The first scratching merely made her aware of the ringís separateness from her. But the longer it spoke the greater was her awareness of itís yearning to walk itís own path. When the feeling became whole, she stopped and smiled, at the ring and then at herself. She felt no urgency, but still cared to give the ring itís own direction.

He stopped inches before her. Was brought into a opened awareness by the realization of their almost collision. Her solid presence prevented him from an immediate consideration of rerouting and continued movement. He stood entrapped by an awareness of her. In the darkness of a natural light she spoke; "Good Morning". With her words he sensed a light but distinct yellow flavored glow flow from her body. He considered a response but could find no words which would belong to her. So still he stood evermore trapped by her presence.

Without detecting the movement, suddenly she was gone. But upon his finer lied a ring and etched into his consciousness was a string of words, of who's origin he could not account. They spoke solid in a high pitch.


(lightning broke across the ringís surface)



In the next second a quiet aloneness enclosed itself around him. And as he listened he saw that lost door pass into the distance before him.

Silently he spoke his farewell, but it was lost; to be carried into emptiness by the growing flow of tears that silently emerged from her folded body. Clutching tightly onto his ringed hand, he left. Moving he strode into the night more then ever directionless.

Suddenly aware of a complete tiredness stretching itself through every inch of his being, he decided to rest from his movement. The park was there and so he entered, wanting a place to rest. Against a tree he sat, allowing a stilled night to close itself

wholly about himself. He felt himself coming awake from a sleep. In trying to resist he soon found that it was useless. As he awoke he sensed the ring still holding itself against his body. His mind began reaching from somewhere within him with speaking words.

'Am I awake, of this I must wonder as I know not of the where, that I seem to be. Have I been awake and for how long. I feel lost, and yet from where I'm not even sure. Come hand, touch that wall. Feel its solidity. Reach flesh, touch out as away from your clouded only-ness. You want proof; yes, you want to find a reflection of yourself in a something of beyond substance. Yet, if I achieve this touch, what really have I come to find.í

I am standing in a too clear distance. And in my it my size projects much to small for the I to feel secure in its aloneness. Am I before myself or of a self, yet to come.

Loosely stuck,

I lie, without a reflection in time,

And unsure, I seem to climb

for any ladder, any steps

who might lead , the me of a there I,

against the face of an I reflection,

do mirrors bounce in true reverse,

so, am I the reflection, I am seeing,

And if I am speaking, then why

am I seeking

These words etched themselves across an all time present sight, just above his eyes line. He had an itching to breathe call him to his feet. Yet, filling his lungs did not help. He did not know where, just that it was time to move.

A momentary touch of insecurity fled through his body, as he walked through the passing people crowds of this day. He heard himself in a once that he was a piece of these beingís whole. Yet now they were as alien beings, and seeing him not.

Reaching inside he searched for her pictured reality. But this act was to no avail. He was caught in a sphere of aloneness. Did he want it to be so, and was this new state of reality a creation of his own making? The air about him was in movement, yet clear. And as he reached out in a looking search for an answer; he but found non reaching stares flooding by. Within him there grew a quiet. Though he felt times movement around him, he himself seemed to lie suspended within a sea of non-motion.

Unconsciously he became aware of an object of weight holding him to himself.

He passed through their time without any time of his own. And in seeing himself without any time, relatable seemingly only to a general description; he was forced to consider the growing meaningless reality that was now his life. An aimless wandering motion now became the pulling essence of his life. Now and again he would just barely become aware of a passing situation in time. In these moments his eyes were pulled tightly open, though his strength would not hold them so for long, his sight would search for any form of recognition. Yet time continued to pass. And he, if he was, continued to seemingly remain.

In sleep he found himself intruded upon by unusual color activity. Though upon waking these scenes would, to his relief, continually fall deeply below his carefully stagnant wall of consciousness. And yet still, his dreams bellowed their reality, timeless as without place inaudibly across his sightís potential.

Yes, he slept?

He felt himself drawn to a size of such minor dimensions, that in relation to those breathings which raged across his whole, he had an existence. Yes he felt himself small, and in his seeming awareness of all time around him, he faced upon himself of his present ever present state. Looking out towards those ever sizes reflecting off his every corner, he began yearning for a size in which he might achieve a movement of light across anotherís vision. As for this reaching, he knew for a certainty that it was beyond him.

He saw as his past knowing had taught him. And in his forward attempts they were his only cared for, as relatable direction.

Another place as another dream, and still they were held meaningless as mere smoke nightmares, moving without substance within him.

Sitting, his complete attention, became drawn to a single object. That stranger's ring. In before sightings it had seemed to be a simple carving of too uniform lightning strokes and had now become a complexity of non-uniform cuttings, yet ever intentional. In a second glimpse towards himself, he came to wonder as to the why, of his now intense interests in this object. A reason seemed to lie within him, but in the same timing it lied beyond his reach. As his sight listened more intensely, so more intricate grew the ring. He was beyond any searching care for himself, as his present act intruded totally into his conscience motivation. He sensed the ring as an only reality, yet still he felt no loss of his own consciousness. He was the holder of the ring, and it was now, naturally the ringís turn of attention. The ring itself grew into the creation of a million mirrors. Reflections within reflections, infinitely... And its pattern became ever complex, until its lines became melded together. And so he began to sense a pictured sight!

He pictured a completely enclosed room, whose walls were ever colored by absence. The ceiling, but another wall held a totality of brightness in color reflecting brightness, all to meld meaninglessly together, forever circling upon those single planed, side limited walls. The floor lied intensely black, and more then solid. Yet centered in the floor, was a well. Down within roared an ocean of clear light. Though this un-relatable substance frightened him and he yearned to meld into the ceiling, he did not do so. Yes, he was also within the room.







And so he followed himself to this now place of non-being. HIMSELF, is he?

Down into the well he fell, yet not of length. It was a falling of size. Though as he shrank he also grew and so an awareness of himself found solidity. Standing solid in a shadowed existence, he saw himself, now to know the color of his reflection as a mere sight within himself. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Standing without reflection, he stood before a life-sized mirror. In seeing not himself, he grew hysterical. He knew. Smiling not happily, yet truly as deeply, he turned into the maze, now alive before him. And so the mirrors passed, holding him misinterpreted as also picture-less. And once again he laughed at those mirrors, of who's attention he had once craved. Though still aware of them, he found a meaningless feeling in their presence.

The ring circled his finger in a spinning motion as he continued to stare. Under the pressure of his laugh its mirrors collapsed into nothingness, leaving the ring as it once was and more. For now, beyond its simplicity, he sensed an ever changing consideration of complexity. And in seeing the ring, he was seeing himself.

Night was deeply embedded into his time, forever without direction, yet no longer aimlessly.

In hearing her presence, he turned to greet her. They met anew, he and the ring giver, yet as if they had met before. He heard her touch as a distance lying near. He heard his touch from within himself.

They smiled together and walked with touching fingers into a nightís eternal blackness of light.


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