And so we danced,

We danced,
Like stars on the precipice of destruction,
Spinning, spiraling, caught in the pull of each other,
An orbit doomed to collapse.

We burned,
We burned,
Too bright, too fierce,
Blazing trails across the vast nothingness,
A supernova of want and ruin.

And then we collided
With the force of dying suns,
With the hunger of creation itself,
Molten, searing, splitting atoms in our wake.

We shattered,
We fused,
Became something unrecognizable,
Something boundless,
A singularity,
A moment stretched across infinity.

Falling,
Falling,
Not into emptiness,
But into something deeper, darker,
The quiet hum of the universe folding in on itself,
The weight of existence bending to our gravity,
The event horizon of us.

We were lost,
We were found,
We were inevitable.

And still, we dance
Endless, eternal,
A love that does not burn out,
But expands.

 She pressed her body closer to his, boldly, her hips aligned with his, the soft give of her breasts a tantalizing pressure against his chest.  "I have waited a mortal lifetime for this moment," she whispers, her voice thick with longing.

"I have dreamt of nothing else."  Her hands rested on his chest, fingers splayed, tracing the contours of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.  She tilts her head back, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, the soft curves of her body molding to his, a perfect fit. The scent of him, familiar and intoxicating, filled her senses. She had missed him, missed the feel of him, the weight of him, the warmth radiating from his skin. A soft moan escaped her lips as she melted into him, her bones turning fluid, her muscles relaxing into his embrace. It felt like a homecoming, a return to a place she had always belonged. Countless moments had passed, an eternity measured in the slow drip of sand through the echoing chambers of time, but now, finally, they were together again.  Her breath hitched in her chest, and a gasp caught in her throat. Her heart felt heavy and thick, constrained by the limitations of this mortal body, and yet it felt so intensely alive—the way the skin on her arms prickled with awareness, the fine hairs raising in response to his nearness. A bead of sweat trickles down the back of her neck, tracing a path along her spine.

"I have been yours through all the countless ages," she murmured husky with emotion, "the light to your darkness, solace, strength. And now this"—she gestures to the body so willingly pressed against him, her fingers tracing the line of her collarbone, the curve of her hip—"this vessel, this earthly form, is yours, completely and utterly."

The gods gently placed me within your beautiful, fragrant rose garden of trust and security.  

The experience was so overwhelming and captivating, I was completely swept away by the sensation.  

Lost for words, I had nothing left to say, rendered speechless by the sheer beauty and peace. I felt like a helpless fool, completely overtaken by the experience.  

Yes, I was utterly lost in a blissful, peaceful swoon, a state of perfect tranquility and contentment.  You are everything I need and desire in life, the ultimate goal of my search.  

So, when the opportune moment arrives, when the timing is perfect, come to me gently and lovingly. Come to me sweetly, with tenderness and affection.  

Come to me, and be with me.

The Halls Of Amenti

Conscience, in its myriad forms, resides within the hearts of men. I, an emissary of the Conscience, have walked the Earth, fulfilling its commands so that many might be elevated, might find themselves lifted from the depths of despair and ignorance into the radiant heights of understanding and enlightenment.  Now, I return to the hallowed halls of Amenti, the mystical realm from which I came, leaving behind a portion of my accumulated wisdom, a seed of knowledge sown in the fertile ground of your minds.  Preserve and cherish the sacred command of the Conscience: Lift your gaze ever upwards, towards the illuminating light of truth and virtue.  Through diligent striving and unwavering dedication, you shall, in time, achieve unity with the Master, the ultimate source of all creation. By inherent right, by virtue of your divine nature, you are already one with the Master, and through that unity, you are intrinsically connected to the ALL, the boundless, infinite totality of existence.  My time amongst you draws to a close. I depart now, but my presence will remain with you if you heed my commandments. Embrace them, embody them, live them, and I shall be your constant companion, your unwavering guide, leading you along the path towards the radiant Light.  Before me, the portal to Amenti opens, beckoning me into its embrace. I descend now into the darkness of night, not a darkness of despair, but a darkness pregnant with the promise of transformation and rebirth.

Pull Up Anchor

Look, I’m just fucking done. Done chasing love, done hoping, done holding onto some idea of romance that just doesn’t fit my reality. It’s not some dramatic, soul-crushing loss. It’s just time. Time to cut the cord, pull up anchor, and focus on what I can control—my health, my peace, my own damn life.

Do I still want love? Sure. Do I still crave connection, someone who sees me—messy, broken, imperfect—and stays anyway? Yeah. But wanting something doesn’t mean it makes sense to keep reaching for it. The truth is, my medical struggles aren’t going anywhere, and I can’t keep expecting someone else to sign up for that. It’s not self-pity; it’s just reality. Asking someone to carry that weight with me? That’s not fair to them, and honestly, it’s not fair to me either.

I spent years believing that love would find a way, that the right person would be willing to weather the storms with me. But I get it now—it’s not about whether someone could handle it. It’s that I can’t keep asking them to. The toll—physical, emotional, mental—is too much to expect someone else to bear. And I’m not going to keep putting myself through that cycle of hope and disappointment.

This isn’t me giving up on love entirely. It’s me letting go of the exhausting search. If it happens, fine. If not, fine. But I’m done actively looking for something that, right now, just isn’t meant for me. I’m done pretending I can offer the kind of love I once dreamed of when I know I can’t.

So I’m moving forward, without that dead weight dragging behind me. I’m choosing solitude, healing, and focus. I’ll still want love—but I won’t waste another second chasing it. Right now, taking care of myself is enough. And honestly? That’s fucking freeing.