Stories, and then Some...

i met a disciple of Love who had the mountain breeze at the tips of his fingers. and everyday he sends it out to the lost and heartbroken to whispher words in a language of longing. but he tells me that sometimes it comes back to haunt him, becoming instead a caressing echo of his emptiness.

there was one who lived on top of a tall promontory where he can see the entire city unencumbered. he searches for the one being who can make him complete, but wished he was blind inside the bowels ...

the beautiful have their own way of destroying those that love them, blinding them with its searing light.

it has been known to render the senses useless, cause an overwhelming sense of yearning, induce pain, create madness, destroy reason. power is gained and lost with a mere glance at beauty. time stops, and the vaunted laws of physics are warped at the approach of the divine.

let's just say that i have witnessed an episode of such last night. approaching midnight, a ...

perhaps it was the way you tied up your brown, wavy hair all the way back. nothing exquisite; just a piece of rubber band or a humble hair clip. the nape of your neck peers from between the collar of your white blouse and your wildly beautiful hair.

i have worshiped those strands of hair that evade your tiny hands, those that gracefully fall on the side of your face unnoticed. somehow your eyes grow wider with those silent strands framing your face.

and when they finally ...

you smelled of sweet, freshly laundered clothes; clean and innocent.

i saw you standing there near the glass panels waiting for me. your hair was the usual unkempt, pointing-to-ten-different-directions style that you usually had. that was the first time i saw you then. you had a ready smile. your puppy eyes too darn beautiful to resist. then we went inside.

imagine a family size pizza that's good for two. yeah, we ate it all. drawing silent and secret deep breaths to calm ...