Tuesday, March 12, 2019

Every breath we drew

A Wonderful Version of Leonard Cohen's ~ Hallelujah

In the end he did find the words, and they were simple.

Her words, born of rage, furious contempt,... no so much so.

So it was.  So it shall always be.

Simple sign that she truly had forgot... all she was... all she could be.

Never try to save a drowning person.

Wounded animals will only strike.

He woke.  All he could remember was a tendril trace of a vision that had graced him.  He had not thought of her, for so long, so long.  Yet there she was.  Could he tell you what she was wearing?  Not really.  It was some form of dress.  Could he tell you what he was wearing?  No.  Probably jeans and a shirt.  Pretty descriptive. 

That didn't matter.  Why?  In the dream they met as little more than they always were... friends.  They talked.  They laughed.  They were.

If for only a moment.

They were.

The him.

The her.

The one, bound by a gravity that pulled one to the other. 

Simple.

Pure.

Maybe there's a god above.

It won't be found in the cold and broken Hallelujah.
 

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