Sharing oneself is love, but true love exists in fantasy, in poetry and I had convinced myself poetry doesn’t really exist…so I was missing nothing. How does one miss something that isn’t?

Then strangely I met other dreamers, a steady trickle of dreaming souls flooding into my secluded seemingly content pond. I seem to have drawn them into my life with an intensity that will make my dams break, making me question my disbelief in my own insanity….my need to be insane awakens once more, wants to break the shackles that bind it and rise, fly, soar once again…to lose my mind, to feel and Be….to acknowledge this taste of bliss which I had discredited by my mind. This whirlwind of subdued emotion forces me to believe in its existence…and the ache, the yearning, the pining for it comes back once more…just knowing there is more…human poetry…♥