Beloved

She's like the wind through my tree She rides the night next to me She leads me through moonlight Only to burn me with the sun Foto by: Katjuša Karlovini

"She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It's good you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind"

Toni Morrison, Beloved

She's like the wind through my tree She rides the night next to me She leads me through moonlight Only to burn me with the sun

Am I just fooling myself That she'll stop the pain

She's like smoke: you think you're seeing her clearly enough, but when you reach for her there's nothing there.

She may be the beauty or the beast May be the famine or the feast May turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell She may be the mirror of my dreams A smile reflected in a stream She may not be what she may seem Inside her shell.

The Moon, she hangs like a cruel portrait Soft winds whisper the bidding of trees As this tragedy starts with a shattered glass heart And the Midnightmare trampling of dreams But no, no tears please Fear and pain may accompany Death

“Sometimes you need to remember where she's been to understand why she holds the tenderness so close to her heart.”

You'll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we walk in fields of gold So she took her love for to gaze awhile upon the fields of barley In his arms she fell as her hair came down among the fields of gold

“She conquered her demons and wore her scars like wings. ”

Have a little talk with Myself