dreaming

It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.
~Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

Is it really a dream? will I roll over and suddenly the sequences will change? gone will be her caress, her warmth, her giggles, her voice, her eyes. I shudder to even think off it. Icy tendrils coil around my heart, even as these words scribble across the page. I never thought I could live with another person again. I don't think I could live without her. Yes, I would be the first to recognize the cliché. As banal as it may sound, I cannot imagine a day without her touch. She called for me and I answered. This is what she claims. On this second swing around the sun since that fateful comment, how many orbits has she made around my heart I wonder. How long did our lives circle each other like distant galaxies, lonely amongst a billion souls before words such as this caused a perpetual motion of inescapable inevitability. Impact was not an option. When two hearts collide new life is born.

A new journey has begun. There are no maps, no rules, no guides. We have cast off on sails scarred from previous experiences, the fabric as bright as a mosaic, each shade, each matrix a remnant of our memories that has stitched together the canvas. Only a compass of love and devotion points the way from this moment onwards. I the Captain, she the mate. Let these seas be less tempestuous, the winds strong and sure. Sirens sing your songs, this mariner will never sway.