Letters
Love letter on Hallow's Eve... to Virginia Woolf
Virginia,
I spent last eve awake throughout the night thinking of you. You've become a passion of mine of which I wish to drink, no, of which I wish to savour every last drop of the blessed sunrise you have awoken inside me. Lack of sleep has left my mind muddled, yet for all the swirling and lack of focus, one constant still remains true that constant is the thought that I shall see you again and hold you in my arms as now you are lashed to the most secret parts of my soul. I wish not to censor my words in any way. For as they drip endlessly from my pen, I do feel that they are still only a muddied reflection of how I truly am captivated by you. No rest seemingly makes my hand move effortlessly from one end of the page to the other. Swiftly blotting as I write as to not leave a smear for which to disguise any of my words my words, nay but my heart. Thankfully I compliment myself only on missing evenings call to slip into the empty poster bed which you were not in. Say it is so that you will indeed visit me when you return to Cornwall. I still see us dancing around the Tor as capricious as two childish young girls your dark locks flowing with each twist of breeze. The sparks dancing from your eyes with each glance you held with me. I remember your laughter echoing down the steep slope toward Glastonbury and thinking to myself as the city slept we stood in our very own Avalon veiled deep within the mists. I cannot nor will I ever allow myself to forget that night. Every moment has become memory for me etched within the deepest recesses of my heart and split out of the whole ghastly concept of time. As on that mount I find now that my subconscious has taken over, yet instead of passions woven together as our lives build a beautiful tapestry, now the passion flows from me as silk and I am feeling this is how it would be always with thee and me. Entwine with me once again, my love. My soul cries out for the day that it will soon come. You must make hast back to Cornwall for the birds await your arrival so they can sing sweetly once more. The grass ever so desires to be greener as do the trees, yet, they also await you. And I, to rest with you. I promise we will pass through that misty veil once again when we touch once more neath the thatched roof of this cottage. You needn't want for a moment all the while you stay.
til then my love.
Virginia,
I spent last eve awake throughout the night thinking of you. You've become a passion of mine of which I wish to drink, no, of which I wish to savour every last drop of the blessed sunrise you have awoken inside me. Lack of sleep has left my mind muddled, yet for all the swirling and lack of focus, one constant still remains true that constant is the thought that I shall see you again and hold you in my arms as now you are lashed to the most secret parts of my soul. I wish not to censor my words in any way. For as they drip endlessly from my pen, I do feel that they are still only a muddied reflection of how I truly am captivated by you. No rest seemingly makes my hand move effortlessly from one end of the page to the other. Swiftly blotting as I write as to not leave a smear for which to disguise any of my words my words, nay but my heart. Thankfully I compliment myself only on missing evenings call to slip into the empty poster bed which you were not in. Say it is so that you will indeed visit me when you return to Cornwall. I still see us dancing around the Tor as capricious as two childish young girls your dark locks flowing with each twist of breeze. The sparks dancing from your eyes with each glance you held with me. I remember your laughter echoing down the steep slope toward Glastonbury and thinking to myself as the city slept we stood in our very own Avalon veiled deep within the mists. I cannot nor will I ever allow myself to forget that night. Every moment has become memory for me etched within the deepest recesses of my heart and split out of the whole ghastly concept of time. As on that mount I find now that my subconscious has taken over, yet instead of passions woven together as our lives build a beautiful tapestry, now the passion flows from me as silk and I am feeling this is how it would be always with thee and me. Entwine with me once again, my love. My soul cries out for the day that it will soon come. You must make hast back to Cornwall for the birds await your arrival so they can sing sweetly once more. The grass ever so desires to be greener as do the trees, yet, they also await you. And I, to rest with you. I promise we will pass through that misty veil once again when we touch once more neath the thatched roof of this cottage. You needn't want for a moment all the while you stay.
til then my love.