the static between dreaming and wakingMature

The fog moves across the full moon, bridging the gap between darkened storm cloud clusters, filtering the pristine light through their murky layers of shadows.  Silence shrouds the night.  The pavement is cold beneath my socks; it seeps into my skin and travels in delicate shivers up my spine into my skull, taunting me into going inside.

But yet I stay, rigid, frozen to the sidewalk.  My hand locked in yours, our eyes lifted into the night sky, my hair blowing about my face with gentle whispers.  Life and death seem irrelevant in this moment; cast into eternity, I stood with you - my eyes fixed on a constant, a brilliant anchor between both of us.  Even if the layers of reality are slowly peeled away to reveal a discomforting future between us, I will remain with my heels planted and my fingers knotted into yours.  I fear nothing of the hidden path we walk.

I wear a cloak of sworn oaths and labyrinths of intricate rituals.  My flesh and blood is but an illusion, a vision of the future meeting you in the space between what has been and what could be.

Answer me.

The End

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