I lit a scented candle to cross the threshold of dreamland. My soul lay still beside a rusty window, covered with a trashy cardboard. A craggy hands touched my soul... slowly and warmly. I whispered, "These gentle hands would take care of mine". I held on to this thought for quite some time, but it did not last.
I was once told that souls can talk to, meet, and feel each other. But it takes a bona fide love to make it happen. Unbelievably, your soul and mine rhythmically move to a soft distinctive sound.
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P.S.
I was decluttering my external HDD when I found this. I began to compose it on July 2, 2014, says on the file details. This could've been a great entry, yes? It is no longer auspicious, so, I will leave it this way... unfinished
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