It was magical as the animals were out and howling.
Dancing under the moon light never felt so right.
There is a man in my dreams. He is tall, beautiful, and glowing in happiness.
Together, we romance in imagination, whittling worlds and ages away to nascent concepts and blind ideas: before the dawn, beneath the dusk.
Whispered secrets and philosophies drift through the current of a river that runs along the paths. The paths that have always been there, some hazardous, some traveled, some yet to be discovered. And there are bridges, some smoking and ruined, others spanning vast depths and chasms, stretching across canyons filled with tears spilled along the journey.
The place within my mind is changing, evolving. My muse is a "will-o-wisp": entrancing, alluring, but deadly dangerous, enticing me with thrills to expand my universe, driving me to adventures I may not return from, motivating me to dizzying heights from which to fall.
I suppose sometimes you must fall, to fly.
There is a man, who is in my dreams. He is the prince charming who'd wake me up from my sleep to dance under the moon. Every night, he'd light my soul on fire. I was filled with restless embers, just waiting for the next best thing to catch so we could light this place up. He took over my cerebellum and filled my thoughts with his smiles every waking seconds. The drum beats of my heart was racing fast only to fill my veins with passion and desire. I'd be excited and vulnerable. But the silly thing is, he wouldn't even know it.
