Listening

I walk along the pathways deep within myself. The place where all things happen, where dreams are a fact and illusion nonexistent. I listen to the songs you will play tomorrow, the songs you have played for me for all eternity.

Like a butterfly I weave and wander throughout time. Searching for that flower, that essence that calls me to come and bring my essence to it. Each time I find it, it blooms brighter and more beautiful. Each time I find it, I must let it go.

Fading, dying, disappearing into eternity, we lose each other in the savoring of the moment and are no longer two, but one.

Once again, sooner than I ever understand, I am a butterfly gently wafting over the pathways of some distant field, listening for those songs that call me back. Straining to find that one whose breath is my breath, whose heart is my heart. I beat myself against the mirror until I fall senseless into the darkness. At last, blinded by my blessings, I finally hear what comes in the silence, finally touch what is not here, finally recognize what cannot be seen.

There are no pictures of those things most precious to us, because we would not recognize them.