Windows (intro)

I see the world passing me by through windows. I have always felt this way, even as a little girl. The human experience is far too fleeting. The pain of grasping only a moment that will never again be, it is enough to drown you.

But there is more to say, far more. Because this boy knew things that I did not. He saw things in ways I couldn’t. He taught me about the feet on the ground and the wonder of reality in its fullness. He made me love in ways I didn’t believe I could. And, as all the fleeting wonders of life behave, once we were done he was gone.

-

As with most things, you move up and down. You may take five steps up and six down. Or you may take three steps up and one down. Sometimes you learn things up to ten steps and then end up fifteen steps down. With the boy, though, I never moved up or down. Instead I became more, as if my density was increasing with every breath, my glow becoming stronger, my skin more full, my brain more activated. I saw more to the space in front of me and the way it shifted. But not in the other dimensions and inhuman spaces as I have always sought out, no, instead this was in the very nature of the here and now. It was the harsh, vivid, crisp reality of the air and the sun and the cold cement slapping you in the face. What I learned was not something that can be unlearned because it is always there. But to say I could experience that again would be to the most likely degree quite untrue.

I write things now from further along the timeline though I am still here within this space, watching it unfold. I know the curves of tomorrow and of next week into the years and further though I have learned to pretend otherwise so that I might go about experiencing it as we are meant to.

The boy knows this, I believe he sees to. So you see, sometimes he is and sometimes he was. Sometimes we did and sometimes we are. But it makes no difference because It has Its proper place, its shining moment somewhere. And I was always more fascinated with that somewhere while he taught me about here. Somehow, he had learned to balance the seeing with reality and I wanted that.

It was easy when I was with him. I didn’t think about it, it just happened. I wasn’t somewhere else, I was there. I had to work to achieve a state I had always avoided. And as the days passed, I wanted to achieve that state more and more. The state of being, the state of living, of being truly and fully alive.

-

The Journey

It is an amazing thing the ways in which God teaches. In the least expected ways, yes that is so. But also in the most profound ways. Through suffering of the body, mind, heart and soul we are taught so much. 

To observe humanity vs to experience as a human. To maintain some shred of faith, dignity and belief in everything, in yourself, even through the most trying of times. To be taught gratitude and appreciation you maybe once had but began to lose sight of. To have something you love so much, something you love the most, taken away from you. Stripped bare and tossed about until you have nothing left to fear. To know that what you lost, that thing you loved so much, to know that even in your swooning you did not do it the justice it deserved. Then to get up and continue on. 

And so for a moment you feel it all. You see it all so clearly that you forget to breathe. You are left speechless and crippled by humility. And as you stumble about in the blinding light, you are desperate for something solid, for something to hold onto. In your nakedness and your disorienting clarity you seek another to love and comfort and mend your broken body.

 But always you gaze back to that shore. Because in your darkest, deepest, defeat was your greatest lesson. And you chose to take it , use it and persevere. For what worse can you feel until your pain is just the feeling of being alive? You will keep after it until it kills you. You know this better than anyone. And in the off-chance it doesn't, that small bit of hope that could be truth, how beautifully epic would that story be. And Epic has a journey. A long, long journey. 

Love Truth

Love is the only lesson. It has no color, no religion, no gender or assumption. Love has no agenda or judgement. When you love, you create love within the world. Like the ripple effect. Kindness is invaluable and there is always a place for it. Kindness is an act of love. You can choose what you practice and what you see. The more love you spread the more you get back. Even if you try to keep your inner thoughts loving it makes all the difference. And to love those who are blind is most important, for they too are people just as you are. Some of us are raised with less fortunate circumstances and the judgement and hate those of us spread is simply an act of insecurity, ignorance and ultimately fear. But it is not their fault nor fault of humankind, this we must remember. It is an opportunity to reach out to those people, armed and ready, with something they cannot draw their weapons to - Love. To unify and wake up. To teach and be taught and to find enlightenment. Everyone has the ability to see but this cannot be done by bringing more dark to the darkness. And it is simple, it starts small. Smile at a stranger, extend your hand to someone struggling to stand. Be patient with the car driving slow in front of you, remind yourself everything and everyone serves a purpose in this life. And when it becomes difficult to find it, ask yourself why? Because what is within is without and what you are you see in others. We are, afterall, one

Singer/Songwriter Kali Rea original song - "Bring It Down"

Time and Time Again

Falling from the sky to the ground they are black and dark violet, midnight against white. No more dancing but sinking slowly, drowning. No anxious stretching but refrained, lost, sinking, ending in separation rather than unity. Do some remain between worlds? All headed in different directions. Will the light fill up with the dark? Upside down , always looking upside down, seeing it all from another angle. That ominous "other" , the unknown fears. Fears which hold us in place. But a new world is ours to reign. Our instincts need not apply in these concrete jungles. So new instincts develop. Desensitized but aware. Fading out to black.

Black rises up without flow, resisting the fall. How could we know from the fallen ground would rise red, the color of love? Dancing vibrant. Or that sorrow would fall from the sky, that blue streaming rain. And as sorrow touched love, royalty was bred into humanity. A deep vivid rainbow, just a dance of colors after all.

The trees bend oddly, as if the aches are bending me out of time, taking my breath here and again , toying with my life. All the little souls just swimming to the mother, the place of the ultimate unity. Existence is the explosion of color. Morphing , growing and being swallowed up again , a never ending never beginning cycle.

Fuzzy honeybee. Tragedy strikes as we take all they built from them time and time again. She made me remember a time when everything was simply a moment. It had been so long. Facets, fragments, moments. Separation, disbelief, paranoia subject to distress and misuse, malfunction of the brain. Atmosphere trying to tell you though you find yourself drifting off to outer-space time and time again. Blue flight heady and just be absent if you can control the smoke rising in your bones. He spoke like midnight brushing against the legs of wisdom. Freedom in a cats fur coat, triumph on the scruffy mange lost habit formed forgotten hats of drunken Tailors. Mama bird spat the unwanted duckling to the ceiling of her holding cell.

Festering yet again. In my mouth and in my heart. Making me sick to my stomach. But I remember that day, I remember many, passing slowly, gracefully , like molasses in a saltwater sky. Just words now, no lyrics to open the senses. They fall on deaf ears. Pulling shades over your throat and blinding it to the world while your eyes cry, screaming silently. How strangely beautiful is this barbie doll figure. So damaged on the inside she damaged the outside. Imagery. Everywhere. Took you so far, fast to Mars and forgetting love. In the footsteps of defeat. I don't know whose scars you wear, I only know the frame. I don't even know my own scars. How could I know yours? Ruptured time and time again into a timeless fashion. Dizzy in the brain yet again. Still hoping for the magic link and key. People only know what you want them to. We all know it's true. And the wind it blows so hard. Will we make it out alive? Beyond the rumble of some distant hurricane. That fairy-tale romanticism.

Be Known

I pull back ashes , back through my bow
For all of the things I did not know
I pull further, last one to go

And let fly the blood of a stranger.

My body burns, like toxic waste
Thick on my tongue is the sour taste
Through the trees I made haste
Dawn came fast, the hills ablaze
Opened my palm to see it black
My lips they trembled, my hips pushed back
I remembered when the ground was green
The future still unforeseen
When mothers youth was a gentle song
Through the days and nights gone long
So I fight and fight ' till I cave
And see to cast was a silent wave
Of the open gates and lovely charm
I cast upon her with my arms
I cried so quiet, so barely there
For tears were how the canyons wear
In my face and in my mind
And deep in oceans where I did find
A love so black
A love so white
We waged a war of worlds to fight
For 42 and 50 nights
Set fire down to train our sight
The trees did roar while Ocean cried
"My dear Blasphar 'tis hope we tried"
But to no avail did you change their minds
And just as said reigned One to time
Midnight hour sang heavy ballads
And all of man cast down their triads
Froze the beasts in hollow shells
Where matrimony came and fell
Down 80 steps for 60 days
Then Ether said my cursed name
And all the children were to blame
For innocence wore no name
And left to breed was the sickest game
Of all existence and with all disdain
We drove three horses there till dawn
Where you watched them sing their retched song
To Mary bright and blue with taste
Giving freely out her cake
For eating up and draining dry
A grown man learnt to cry
Far across the caves of Sonora East
The shadows danced upon their feast
Cried out for love to race him home
Cried out for his cursed name be known

Waiting

Sometimes I wonder if I am the product of my fears. The fabrication of everything I pushed away because it hurt too much. I think about the great love I still believe in. I wonder if every step I take is just a dance around it, just an excuse for not facing it. For not dropping my bags and marching up to the doorstep and demanding to be let in. I've created reasons and diversions, distractions and doubts. I have planted a forest to wander where everything is just a half of something greater. Where satisfaction escapes me.

But isn't it all for the same reason? Isn't there always that lingering desire for the epic love of biblical proportions that has yet to be written? Or perhaps I am just the product of Disney movies and rejection. No one will ever be good enough until I believe I am, this I tell myself, this I tell men. And for all of the times I tried to convince myself this was the single most prominent problem, I was lying. Somewhere inside my complex world I know this isn't so. Somewhere inside I know that I just haven't met you yet. And that if this life insists I be so fortunate, I will not have to convince myself of a thing.

For now I am happy with the road, with adventure, with life. So content with freedom , a thing that is never possessed and barely holding on, feeling threatened at every turn. But isn't it great like that, so beautiful, untamed and wild as the stormy, midnight ocean.

 My life is a series of moments. Big screen moments. Sometimes my jaw drops as I watch them unfold. 'Am I living this? Right now, is this me, here, in some beautiful scene?' . Yes. Just shut up and live it, Kali.

I am lucky. This I know. I can't accept it completely, I can't believe it all the way. What did I do to deserve this? Is this life just a credit card to be paid in the next? Or have I earned this? And when you get everything you desire, everything you want, you realize how truly impossible it is to know what you truly want. Because it isn't money and it isn't fame, it is something much deeper, something so big yet so small.

So - is it love? Is that what I am always dancing around? Is that what I am waiting for? Do I stand on the edge of my Forest of Halves, gazing across a field with a distant horizon painted the deepest shade of passion? And do I call for you on the wind, invite you in? Do you want to help me create this world, anyway we'd like? Or do I leave it behind? Must I venture from my sea? And if it isn't love, then what is it?

Maybe finding It, whatever It is, is It.
The journey to getting There, wherever There is.

Circle

Have we come full circle yet?
I wonder this now as these memories flood me.
Or, is this simply the end?
Though the end is only ever the beginning,
They are one in the same
Much like night and day
Yin and Yang - swimming in the same circle.



I remember everything best in the sunlight, imprinted in my mind like moving Polaroid productions. But much like dreams, the memories contain feelings, smells, comprehension that a photo does not. Most are so very sweet, so innocent and hopeful, full of life. I wonder if always I will create moments like this, capture them so nicely. Or will they eventually change, as everything does.

And for this we shall move onward in metaphor, for only there does the truth truly ring true and truest. To run through a field, in nothing but your feet, to feel your breath so difficult to catch , butterflies in a net. To sing at the top of your lungs, in treetops. To free all ambition into water floating bout the air , caressing skin so cream colored.

And here we become hesitant, stumbling over so many words, that really ever only meant something quite simple. Assumptions made, gambling fools, wasting way in the days that fade. "No, don't leave me please! Not yet not yet not yet" .

Sweet summer. The only time I am truly alive. Is it sweeter then, or would I be better off chasing it round the hemispheres? You've tried that, and I only run. SO might she you think? The green gone of fresh, too stale , heat sticky not love left high tied. Did the bag close itself for 9 months, or only 7? And all these  questions, do they make you weary? As they made the man before, and the woman before him.

Faster now, faster. Do you understand? Only you will do. We knew this all along, or at least I did. You, I still can't figure out, though that is what entices me so. You now, believe this is for you , but it is for him. It always was. I am sorry, I tried to tell you. It hurts me more, do you believe that? I would bleed a pool for you, or two. Though I would die. Which won't matter so much .

Found you there, under the foliage, huddling. What from I will never ask. Some things are better left unknown.

It's Coming

All the fabric fell to the floor, the silk and satin, the torn lace, in an elegant way. And as it lie there, in a small heap, it was as if it had never been more than that heap. Still I couldn't understand it. How could it be true? I had preached time and time before to bring all from a place of love, not a place of fear. But had I myself gotten those confused? Was I in fact watching that fabric dance to the ground for fear of holding onto it rather than fear of losing it?

I dropped to the floor, my tears dampening the cloth. Bewildered in the coming twilight, touching the stains softly, breathing in the scent of memories laced in the stitching. I had outgrown the heap, there were others to wear now. I couldn't wear them all on just my one body. Yet how bold and uncomfortable to be naked, no cover on skin so used to wearing it.

 I didn't know what to do, frozen as night fell, hunched over the fabric. I stayed there until morning came, my body stiff, my eyes tired. 

As the sun rose I felt something thawing within me. It was overwhelming and nearly took my breath away. I couldn't explain it, really. 

But in that moment there I stood. I blew a kiss to the fabric I once wore so passionately, then walked on. I pushed my way through double doors to the great rolling hills, so fresh and waking in the new light. I breathed in the air as I hadn't in so long. And though the pain swam about me, so did the liberation, the promise of something new. 

Perhaps all was more broken than I had every fathomed, than I could comprehend. Perhaps I was broken beyond recognition. But in this I knew; I was still alive. And home never meant the same thing to me, but you know that. I had set fire to you and watched you burn more than once. But always I wore your secret chains, invisible but so heavy. Never before had I walked away. I smiled. I thought there were no more Firsts left. Feet to grass I ran, so far, far from the mansion concealing the heap of my dark but passionate past. 

They always told me these things that I had to live by. They wrote about me in books and letters and magazines. They told me just who I was and what I would do and always I was indebted to all that was written. But how beautiful it was, when I changed it all. When I wrote it as I wanted it to be. And to do this, we both know time had run dry long ago, I had to turn and never look back. 

I will always love you. But nothing is truly infinite, nothing lasts forever, nothing in life, not even life itself. And in the beauty of the moment when two paths cross, when they dance under the moonlight, morning must come again. It is the value of the moment, the beauty of the goodbye, that makes it something real, that gives it substance. Not forever, my dear, not time, not when or even where. But just that it was, and it was, in it's time, so incredibly breathtaking that remembering it often makes me gasp. 

Walk on child, there is river yet to swim, love still to feel, ground yet to cover, fields still to parade. I believe this, do you? Because in the end, that is really all that matters. Do you believe? Nothing is impossible. Know it in your heart dearest love. In the very essence of your being, know that though you swim such dark and inky water, though all seems it is crashing down and the very thread of your being evaporated from the Earth, that you are a light in the blackness. You have the power to change this if only you will believe it. Let yourself trust that light can again exist. It does, you know. I have seen it in you. Let yourself. I was only ever a mirror. 

The Moon Story

Last night stretched on. I enjoyed the company of friends and sang a song for a small crowd all the while sourly anticipating the inevitable and heartbreaking meeting at nights end. As it would be, it was an emotional event that left me utterly confused and slightly miserable yet once again content and no longer empty. It is in this contentment I find stagnation, it is within the happiness that I seem to find lack of purpose or growth. Some things, though they once grew, do not grow forever.

So it was when I finally staggered into the house and locked the door that I wandered into the kitchen and began the process again. I threw back shots between sobs and it was there that I sank to the disgusting floor of a community household and lost it.

As they will, the sobs eventually subsided into a numb line that hummed steady. It was just before midnight and I was ravished. I cooked a full meal , sloppily , that I didn't taste. I wandered to my room and tried to watch something mindless on the screen. I passed out then and woke a couple hours later, not wanting  to get up, yet realizing the lack of grace. An empty bowl on my bed, lights on, my dress riding up. An ugly scene to say the least and not one I care to repeat.

My mind was spilling over with thoughts all racing each other as I cleaned up a bit and made myself decent for bed. I lay there in the dark and needed water. Which conveniently was in my car. So I turned the light back on and fetched water. I wasn't falling to sleep. I kept thinking  , my mind working so hard, how would I make this decision? So I turned the light back on and grabbed homeopathic sleep aid tabs and took one. Again , to no avail, not even after a third. So I sifted on the computer and found some reasonable advice on my situation along with some fitting and needed quotes from Khalil Gibran. I wrote upon a sheet of paper and paired it with a gift in a small bag that I tucked into my purse.

At this point we were well into the 4 am hour and I could hear the morning hum beginning, I could smell it wafting through my window. My eyes were wide open, my mind still active. This had been the pattern for at least a week now. But I did have this sensation of something solid. It was the realization that I was seeking growth, not happiness. I found comfort in the thought  that what is meant to be will find its way. Still, there is never a true remedy for a broken heart. And in those rare circumstances, it is worse to do the breaking than to be broken.

So, back on with the light and on with the running clothes. I was hesitant at first, but I put the music in the ears and headed out the door solo. I was going to run up the mesa. My legs went and did not stop. Chris Isaak began the journey  , and then something strange happened.

As soon as my feet hit the trailhead, Dark Side Of The Moon started. I thought it perfect. This would be my soundtrack. But how right I was I soon realized. With every turn and every emotion, every thought and step, the music was narrating my existence in that time and place. Part of me might argue that that is simply the making of good music, that it might find a way to fit every situation. But as I passed the blue flowers and the single white one, as I ran through the mud and the dry cracked dirt, as I climbed the small rock wall and headed to the mesa all glowing with the sun, I felt this was more than coincidence. I considered I was , in this time , the product of something written. Every word was speaking my surroundings , and the music my inner most frequency. Now , not to be mistaken, I am always quite taken with music. This experience was something much more incredible.

So as my feet hit the landing of the stairway to the mesa, there began, in perfect synchronization , Great Gig in the Sky. And as I stood atop that giant rock and the rising sun shown in all its beautiful glory, I basked in the epic-ness of the moment complete with its soundtrack. And as two small jet planes passed overhead, waving my attention from the beauty of nature, there began Money.

Back down the hill I went, all the while listening to the words echoing. Talking to me, even telling me "down, and out" as I descended , speaking of what lies in the grass and of my own insanity which inevitably made me giggle.

So as I came to the road once again, I felt I could go forever in this state of physical and mental elation. I wished I could sustain this. As the house neared I checked the time left on the soundtrack and realized there that I was twenty seconds from the end. I sprinted the last block and as the journey ended I once again laughed to myself. I stretched, grabbed my computer, and here I sit writing this. Perhaps this is one of those pieces you re-read and in hindsight understand you were delirious from sleepless night upon sleepless night. But regardless, the energy was solid and while I have an extremely trying time in front of me accompanied by such big decisions, I feel lighter than I had. I feel progress has been made, an understanding.

 I should attempt sleep. At least for a few hours, so that when I enter the studio today I can remember a few words.

The morning is lovely, perfectly chilly, moist and alive. Wish me luck.

Summer & Space

Summer is the only time I truly feel alive. Here in the night I sit, under the vast sky,  remembering it all.

Dreams are difficult to separate from reality, though I wonder if either exist.

I've seen this garden before, this place means something good. This I know. But here in the darkness, I lose myself. I forget my skin, and I ask the most difficult questions. I tell you over and over again I am sorry. And I am, I wish I could cry for you. I wish I could bleed for you, I wish I could take it all away. I wish I could lie. 

There are those, still standing, who wander the darkness. So shallow are the bowls in which their hearts rest. They always have an intention hidden from their tongue. 

In these hours I just need the sky , and the stars. I won't admit I need you. I cannot. 

I remember the summer not too long ago, though it feels like lifetimes. I remember the warm nights, there in your arms yet a million miles away. I smell the sweet smell of it, as if the memories are on the breeze. The innocence of ignorance. Of a small square of Earth providing the waking moment. 

I have learned to find comfort from the torment, that of being alone. Sometimes I can barely bring myself to stand, to face anything at all. Sometimes I wonder if I will survive the echo of my own thoughts. Always I wonder why.

-

So I held out my hand to you, on the platform, against the vast backdrop of space in all its glory. All the signs were posted, flashing bright, lined with lights. They read "warning" "caution" "Proceed At Your Own Risk" . But as I held my hand there, as I smiled and the breeze of the heavens stroked my hair, as I looked into your eyes, all the signs disappeared. You were blinded. The great stars and galaxies there behind me so enticing. Floating there, suspended in your grace. 

And so forward you stepped. You reached for my hand, eyes locked. I smiled so widely then, let my fingers stretch. And then you took hold. 

Everything spiraled , the platform left and we were the swirl of the milkyway. We were running upon great runways of stardust, laughing and dancing, spinning round and round. All the glory , all the color, ours to tread upon. 

And there in the center, upon a bed of a million stars, we made love with our souls. The galaxies glowed, and sang us music. We tasted the center , we felt it, we understood it. We walked the streets of space, and I showed you worlds you had never before fathomed. I took you so far beyond the reach of any comprehension, until the darkness grew and the stars became less. Until the galaxies began to run out and the dust disappeared. 

And as your step slowed, and the silence crept upon you, you saw you were alone. There on the edge of blackness , so far from the platform, no sight of the center. You called my name and it rang through the matter, dimmed the light. You began to stumble, began to fear, choked by the blackness. No one there to help you. Where was the platform? Where was the way from which you had come? The darkness before you was for drowning. And when I appeared to you I told you I was sorry. But it was only the stardust, and when you reached for my hand the dust scattered, as did I. As you fell to your knees, there was a bell so far in the distance. You knew it was so far off, so very far off, but you rose to your feet. You crawled through the empty space, away from the galaxies. So very far away. 

Nowhere

It kills me though it makes me live.
Could you be true, after all of this ?
How, with a song, could you make me love you again?
And is it love? Or is it something else entirely?

You can be so beautiful, once you wipe away the blood.
Just lift the shades from your eyes,
A million miles away.
Never dull,
I'll give you that.

And something is moving beneath
Water under the boat
Keeping it afloat
And tossing it to death
Like a toy in the street.
But the echoes in your voice
Rang out so emerald green
Did I ever have a choice?
In the epic beauty of the creases
Made on your notes
Riding passenger
In the fairy tale boat
That found stardust in death
And love in pain.

That's where we grieve now
Where once again we find just how
The silence is always so loud
And the sting pushes me there
Into your arms and your touch
How can you stay so calm ?
When I hate you so much?

You know its the closest to love
You can come.

And it is so beautiful, Baby love,
My honey, dripping down and sticking
Holding on sweetly.
Your angel was the assassin
The sky held the devil
He watched us dancing
With the dying honey bee
And the sidewalk saw
Like your heart does.
But I lied to you
And you know it's true
Darling running through tar
Speaking like molasses
Running down my back
Driving in , and slithering within.

Move that skin across the strings
Train heaving it
Moving through and framing him
But you are all your own
And blossom late you did
Rotting on yellow foam
Blindly heading home
Instinct run through veins of steel
Gone black and slimy but electric as the eel
Do you remember how to feel?

The gaps and holes left broken open
These burning fireflies of lost hope
But the drama hung you with a twine rope
That sliced you down to the very bottom
Of the love you wished for
The very end of the heart you bore
And here in this darkening hour
I find once again the words
Come again the herds

Of prophecy and lies
Of hope and demise
Of triumph and cries
Of superficial prices
And empty, unmarked dices.

So swim round and round
This little dish
I'll love you then and make my wish
For you to walk on those two legs
For you to kneel there and beg

But in the kindness of humanity
The bliss of rancid sanity
I'll save you then where your eyes turn black
And the sun goes red

Free the breath in your lungs so that your veins
Might return to their natural state
To love and to hate
And you can walk among us
As the man you told them you were
And what did you leave on my door?

Honey, there is always more.
More and more and more and more
And and and and
More.
Rain
Flame
And
And
Walk me down your picture frame
Emerge from shame
Into fame
Baby say my name
Baby say my name
Yours to be said
Mine to be fed
Lie in my bed
Just say it then,
Say your name .

Night Torment

I came to you once again. It was sometime late evening. The breeze was soft and dry, I could feel my hair gently moving around my face. I felt naked, just legs to move me and a body grown slight. The desert was eerie at night, all the red gone dark. I walked until I knew, until I sensed you. I could not see you, but in the light of the moon there were shadows. They were all yours, as everything is.

Then you were right there, behind me, your fiery breath making my skin scream. I was not afraid. I felt you touch your fingertips to my back, trace them down my skin. I wanted to moan, to bite something, but I kept to a restrained shiver. I would know no man like I knew you. You would always be there, watching, laughing silently.

I had told myself something different. But you climbed your latter and I fell into your arms. We had met at the divide, Earth. We met there now, always. There was something too painful to speak about that lurked within this quiet agreement. Forever doesn't exist. And time is cruel.

"Why do you taunt them like you do?" I whispered.

You waited until I nearly believed you would not answer.

"For the infinite amount of minutes my flesh has burned in the flames, there is nothing that torments me more than watching them feast upon you."

It was the weakest statement you had ever made. It brought silver tears into my eyes. I turned to you then, in the moonlight I could just make out your dark features, eyes cast down. I cradled your face in my hands and kissed you with my soul. Your lips burned mine. Beyond the hurt was lust, lust that ran so much deeper than the figure.