Wednesday, January 22, 2014

The Dream of Us

The questions I ask - she doesn't. The things I wonder about - she won't. I know her, but we've never met. I'm with her and I don't know her name. I know I'm dreaming, but it feels like more than that. It feels like a memory. How can that be? 

For years I searched. It had to exist... because I knew. If we have souls, they're made of the love we share. Undimmed by time. Unbound by death.



1 comment:

  1. Honest and compelling. Also, quite sad to feel this intensely out of synch with your...friend? xo...

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