Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

The Kiss - Gustav Klimt Prediction You can break me, but not my belief. I was born to love, and your cheating ways and promising lies cannot jade this sensitive soul. I know the darkness well, but I've also seen the light, and from that dark, will come that light engulfing my world, enlightning my very own flaws, and that day is not far away when the embrace of two planets will continue the revolution around a heavenly body and the charge towards their very own paths.

Michael Whelan's The Snow Queen (copyright 1988) The Fog Swim in it, cold fingers in your warm ears numb breath on your staring eyes, ice lips on your tired mouth. Your lover's gone, with the sun, and her dreamy whiteness will pull you deeper inside the heart and womb of a sleep exploding world, where the breeze will put you to sleep and her water will explode your long held desire into an orgasm, the early morning wonder in the dead of night.

A Blank Sordid silences in tranquil nights, the masked killer, fearful, vengeful. Stare straight into those difficult eyes. The masked killer, the bearer of freedom, the bringer of the last breath and the flight into a fresh life.

The One Who Always Had Enough The first thing I remember, about you, is your smell, that lap that held many, selflessly giving love, giving warmth, giving nutrition. You never asked for anything in return, And I didn't even buy you the slippers I had thought I would, for you. They all say, they can't forget your smile. I can't forget what lay behind your smile. That undying strength of a woman, who always believed that what's supposed to happen, always happens. You always scolded me for turning up my nose at things, and yet you said I was pure, just like the milkmaid, who used to come to your house years ago. We can never be, even one fourth of what you were, Not even close to achieving that grace under pressure, that sturdy belief that good brings good. Can death kill you? No it can't. Your body was old, sagging arms, tender hands, that always caressed every one that sought out from you. Can death take away anything, when life couldn't, from the one who always

Ophelia - Sir John Everett Millais The Loneliness of the Other "But you told me, you're not lonely." "Yes," I spoke, and these few words, to my blood sister. "I'm not lonely, but I'm alone, It's not the loneliness of the self, I feel. It's the loneliness of the other." "What does that mean?" she asked. "It means, that with myself I am complete, with my own I'm satisfied. But the other, my love, makes me lonely." "So, why do you need the other?" "Because, though my own self is enough for me, it is not enough for my world." And with these words, once again, I made the world outside, shrink, and captured it, into a small crystal ball, to gaze into my own known future.