I am always constructing the wildest dreams

In simple formulas

Writing life goals into 3-step programmes

and leave them undone in

Non-memory

My writing is convoluted

Too many extra parenthesis, always one word

Too long

I sell pretty portraits to people

And tire myself from describing

and imagining

every stroke and colour palette

I hide the empty canvas

"A masterpiece can't be rushed!"

A reflection of

A cluttered, unmoving mind

A mental traffic jam

Rife with horn

“Winter, you’re so long and hard”

sighed Summer between

Impassioned trusts

As they danced, tethering long and back.

Winter’s a keeper; raw, intense

Unafraid of opinion

Dark and black

But Winter strokes a timely dame

With softer whispers and a timid

Smile. She awakens

Green and faintly frosted

Meets Winter in his endless night

Singing in his sordid seduction

He rumbles as he slides inside her

Spring-green, afresh, a new man.

Sometimes, alone, he forgets Spring

He dreams of Summer and her endless days

He hears her singing in her Summer rain

He feels her stripping her fresh leaves and

Parting wild bushes for Autumn to paint

A vileness only made viler because

Jealousy had no home between them

He dreams of her and she dreams of him

But the two never again did meet

The atmosphere was different with him.

He had a gentle smile - such is life, c'est la vie! - a milky blend of soft quiet sunlight. Being flashed with his lopsided grin was like sipping a fresh brew of Felix Felicis. He looked, smelt, and melted me with the precise accuracy of everything I cherish secretly is a soft glowing spot in the forest of my mind.

The moment was as unparticular as an odd scent I desire - the smell of old elevators, old buildings, and of the musky, musty, trapped air of staircases. It was so rare, so fleeting, and so unimpressive that I alone (and my brothers) understood. This moment revealed itself like the sudden flight of a camouflaged bird upon a brown lake. "Was this here? Was this here all along?" you wonder in wonderment.

It was a shining day, an absolutely stereotypically Disney shining day. Radiant, peaceful, dazzling. He brought me to a temple in Adelaide, breaking my dry temple spell. I slowly gained feeling back in my cold winter fingers as the weather turned to spring, relishing the quiet beauty of the dignified aura. We spent a good two hours inhaling golden air and calming our minds. The sun shone on his face at a precisely calculated angle. His eyes shone the blue of a summer's sky, bright from within, and light as the gentle flowing of water in a stream.

The moment was significant because it was inevitable. We danced our way towards it, knowing it would fall into place, but not knowing how. Of all possible moments, this was the trigger. Where is the significance of the stars aligned? Or of the engravement of specifically curved lines on my palm? And yet it was clear as day, clearer than day, a smile carved out of sun, bold and absolutely smashingly significant to us.