That will o' wisp, that wraith that slips through your fingers but for the briefest moment takes you to Nirvana.
It is an idea, anything more than a whisper and it would vanish.
The ideal we aspire to. Perfection.
It is our Galatea. Stay Aphrodite! Do not breathe life into her just yet. Let me revel in her perfect ivory form.
She is the dream. He is the dream. The dream made manifest. Hand in hand you walk towards that Utopian sunset.
But do not confuse dreams with diabolical desire nor with lust.
Put her atop that pedestal that you may spend eternity in pursuit of Nirvana, that ideal. Perfection.
Now go ahead and close your eyes.
I dare you to dream..
No comments:
Post a Comment