I feel you my Valkyre in the gentle rustling of Summer grass, the mist, rain and the falling of Autumn's golden leaves. Your presence in the world keeps me here - there's no better reason I can see. I feel you in all that life has to offer. A reason to exist. I know you perceive me too. You are the bubbling spring of life that rises from the earth and nourishes me. You are the laughing Nymph in the gnarly wise oak who wears a crown of holly and fidgets lazily, in an aloofly fertile way, in the gentle breeze. You are the willow who daintily dips her toes in the whirlpool of life - giggling at the strange antics and hissing politics of geese and mere mortals. We kiss passionately, like once parted lovers, under the blossoming mistletoe. You bless swan songs with your dawn chorus. We are oneness my darling and I feel you in the cosmos of which my heart and soul are concrete parts. You are the spike of existence - Bealzebub's flat tire. For you I carry on with this chore called life. You are my wise eternally young whore. "All things are lawful," you say, smiling enigmatically, my Dostoyevskian heroine. I've seen you by the riverbank skydiving from the full moon. We groom each other's white feathers with our beaks and entwine our long necks. Snatching time from death's cruel grasp, as stars twinkle up above, just for us, rocket ships of men travel into infinity blissfully unaware of your cosmological mystery existing right here. We skylark, run and play in my imagination - beyond science and mathematics, floating right on the very edge of reality - merrily, merrily down stream, life is but a dream for us both.
