Writers write, dreamers dream, actors act, singers sing, lovers love. It is all the same and it is not the same at all.
Kindred spirits seek out their own kind, drawn like amalgamated quick silver back into the oneness we never leave.
I listen to the echo of your words and slide through them into my own and I believe this is the way it is supposed to be. We are the muses, the reflection of a creation so magnificent its possibilities are absolutely endless.
Now I see you. Now I don't. One eternal game of hide and seek, peeking around corners, wondering -- and discovering it is not so different as I might have thought.
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