Touch me * but not with your hands. Touch me with your words. Imagine your words are a hundred hands. Each word you say will touch me, caress or awaken me to a thousands delights.
Race. Life's a race. (no, it isn't monsieur MaRC)
Your words you want me to read, without telling them to my ear; I will even if I have given my word elsewhere. Why do you want me to read them so much? For the connection to start happening? It is already there my dear. You or I aren't aware of it, that is all. (but what is the point of it then if it stays like a Virgin Mountain where nothing grows?)
Something will grow from it. The essence of each word added up to the previous and to the next word. The trilogy. It will make a fog - a fog that I can link in and so can you. That is how we communicate.
[ running away]
Touch me * .........with your words. Your words can be stronger than your hands. Your words can be more tactile than your skin. Your words can be a torch in the darkest of night.
..I long for your words like in the past living; do you remember when the Magician said those few words, and brought me to Life? It has kept appearing at Precious Moments and chanted more of those alive meanings (of words) all around me. Those words have touched me like a woman, the one I am, the person I want to be. Those Sounds have touched me like a soul touches and ignited a fire which has been difficult to put out.
'When you have your knowledge back, you will remember that the words can be pulled out of that fire which links ALL; (and the writer in this minute) and take your words out from that place of power. Like the blacksmith pulls out shiny created (red) tools out of his embers. Always remember... Remember words can be found in the pit, take your words from there, and feel the effect, the beauty you can create with that single word, in your very life now.'
I long for the contact they will give, the effect they will expel, the feeling they still stir inside me. They make me float. They make me twist and move like a graceful dancer would - in their head - having found the inspiration from the Beauty of Life before they touch the floor.
The words have been said. They are here somewhere. In the Fog. All around me, all around you. They shine like sparks, they have set a beautiful signature pattern around our beings.
If you shake them off - they will get another life after having burned back in the fire and be freed from their applied energy. And another life they will live.
Leave them here, and those stars will shine, and feed the fire sometimes difficult to put out.
'Too much! Your words have had too much effect! Please take them back, free me from your promise of love, I cannot breathe in this too tight hope and dream, take it back, back to yourself, back to your side of the fire... Your promise brought The Disappointment, hanging out like an old coat hanger caught on a piece of heavy luggage. It gets jerked in the bus doors, in the plane door, and even in my front door, making of me a cumbersome, frazzled stated individual. I cannot be in the present moment for I dream of what could have been... '
# 'Those Could-have-beens-bins. Yes, I know. Forget the dream hanging like a thousands pounds. There is no such spark - it was an image in an old mirror that was not broken. Break it! With that stone you left on the tree!'
But she didn't listen and (rambled) on... 'Never mind the past, your words are not with me any-more. Oh now, they have sunk into the pond, nowhere else could I dispose of them (I have lost the fire.) '
'Lost a fire? How can you lose a fire? '
'It got buried by all the fire-blanket experiences that I have woven very tight and hard. So there is no more fire. Do you know a magic word to pulverise such blankets?'
'The fire will live again, I thought I had killed it but I now remember it has many sides to which other souls have access. Though a lot of them are stuffed with fire-blankets too. All of us need to get together you know. And all sing a Powerful Heart prayerything to make Blanket into beautiful living shiny red Tools of Words.'
Those words we can take out of the FEU and offer to each other, those sounds that can nurture us, the effects and energy that make us feel in love with Life. The words that soothe old boils, now leaving, to never return.
'The fog IS the way.'