there is something about not knowing what the other is going through, that constitutes real drift sand. your thoughts are the sand the undercurrent fears and hopes and trembles are the drift. you feel as if you want to fly away and just drink from the well of forgetting but really you hope for your manifest destiny. unfolding leaves. endless dreams. breathing, breathing, breathe!
nothing will ever be the same again. such is the nature of everything. essentially we remain the same, but the wheel turns and the winds blow and ever new aspects of ourselves show, are revealed, concealed - i long for these lips to be kissed and worshipped and covered with your warmth and care. but i don´t know, i don´t know, i don´t know if they still will be there when i return, if i will still be there, or lost somewhere in the maze of my wondering and search for healing.
i really want to open up like a flower in spring time. let those old leafs of fear drop and nourish the ground. i can´t wait to rise up and use those wings. and once i fly i will know that the drifting sands are nothing but a mirage and the truth will be my way.