The wind that accompanies Your spirit gushes past my soul, fills
it with the strongest of passions to brace the uncompromising terrain. A
triumphant tale of undying spirit - the Idea of You.
The balm Your spirit smears across my cuts and bruises, soothes
also the burning insides of the heart, scraped mercilessly by tempests of
aches, era after another. The tranquilizing calm of anesthesia - the Idea of
You.
The melodies of celebratory exaltation that traverse miles from
the spaces of Your flute illuminate the darkest tunnels of my veins and
arteries, make the oxygen in my blood come to life. The expanding aura of
positive energy and unending adulation - the Idea of You.
You are but a stranger, of origins and purposes unknown. You may
have traveled unknown lands, carrying a glowing ambition in your deeps... You
may have touched many a lives, turned rags to riches... You may have helped
answer a million questions on wars, peace and love. Yet, you remain a paradox
of who may or not exist, like an elusive phantom in the dark.
But, the Idea of You lingers, as tantalizing as ever. The
flutters of warmth the Idea of You evokes in my bosom equalizes the
unfamiliarity that marks the being of You. The phantom of You is merely an
enigma of existentialism... But the Idea of You, the very essence of my psyche.
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