Mood:  incredulous

its the weekend now. Im marking more days off the calendar. Comming closer to the highpoint of this path. 

The clouds come to lift me up. Although they drag down most. My heart reaches out to cleanse the sickness in the one im waiting for.

 I feel it, the song of my heart, pulling at me. Forcing me through space and time to be with her.

 In my dreams, i remember the future. Of skies shot with fire and a thousand sunsets seen from a thousand vistas. Memories of green fields of musty books and hallowed halls. Of dark nights spent infront of fireplaces, whispereing unnumbered secrets. 

I saw us moving though the annuls of time remembering the future and experiencing the past.

Within this paradox connectin ran rife, growing and blossoming into something more, something mysterious and beautiful.

And so the dream came to a close, with an old man and a canvas. A million memories painted in a none to steady hand. Punctuated with quiet tears. And veiwed through a smokey mirror. A visual memory of a time in which there was more.