Winter whisper

I dream.

I dream to kiss you.

To feel your lips brush mine. For the first time, for the last time. One more time. To be suspended in that moment that is all moments. To be everywhere, to be nowhere, to be the only place there is.

A connection. More than mere touching of flesh to flesh. More than an instant eternally intertwined between our mutual worlds. It is a knowing, a sharing, of something transcendent and at once discrete beyond knowing.

That is my dream.

But it cannot be my reality.

For I am not there, and you are not here. And that is as it should be. It is right. It is proper. It is well. For no one should want of where I am, but all are destined to find it. Find it lonely. Find it alone. Find it unbearable.

I am cold like a shiver of night. My dream passes like the frost on the glass that separates us. Ever present but never real. Ever real but never realized.

From you I go now, to leave you in your peace. For I shall not know peace while I know your absence, and there is nothing more for me to know.