Wishful Thinking

Within these canyon eyes gentle breezes flow like whispers of early morning twilight. The dawning rays of a distant horizon call, but only the echo finds me, a sounding of something near, and yet away just beyond the pale cliffs and rosey red cheeks. Then my heart, like a startled steed, must be restrained, lest it bolt from beneath me, leaving me, betraying me to the hollow crevaces of dreams and the shadows of glittering promises. And so... be still my stammering steed. Tis only the wind that has us undone, these echoes of other voicings pounding about the rocks hither and thither. Stand to and braven up thyself... for the dream is forever greater than the reality, the whispering echoes greater than the words they bear. And around yon bouldered corner there.... yet again... we shall pass, I promise you... unseen, unheard, untouched and unknown.

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