I prattle…for the most time that is what I say…an idle chatter of all the unimportant meanings…a babbling noise to express what other sensors register…mostly it would be whatever comes to mind and most of the time what comes to mind is the reflection of what my eyes see…a morning…a ride to work…the trees jogging along the dual carriageway and waving after me : “have a good day”…an office filled with a simple-minded requests and sophisticated conversations…a day…a popup window that brings with him an excuse to smile…you’ve got a mail and suddenly your space is twirled and sucked into the time vortex of another reality…a mind gets tickled, sometimes scratched and in some cases – challenged with a hard bat…an impulse response to the poke…a jerk reaction of some times and peaceful purrr of the others…neither makes it for a court case of outstanding affairs, all is just a childish prattling about grown up’s matters… all are the parts of a daily routine…whatever my I’s see…gets shared...

He hissed along the strip of polished ice. A sharp sound of steel pressed against crispy purity of a blank canvass, a white page in waiting to be written. As he moves along, the traces of the skates compose an intricate pattern. A long straight line, and then – a sudden swish of a spin. A coiled calligraphic signature at the end of a sentence and a dot at the spot where he stumps the tip of his skate into the flesh of the ice. A necessary stop to collect one’s balance after a series of endless turns and circular loops. As you push off from the shore, won’t you turn your head once more and make your peace with everyone

If you’d ask me, I like the drifting in a fog sensation. It gives you that feeling of inevitable unknown yet the same time strange perception of tranquillity and peace. Fog is never sinister to my senses; he is my friend, not foe. He takes me into his embrace and hides away reality. He creates that aura of peace, as much as fragile and uncertain, but the same time like a temporary shelter from the hustles of life. I love to drift in a fog. Of my own thoughts and perceptions. Love how they all thicken slowly gathering around me. Not a hectic and chaotic motion, but a pleasant flow of invisible streams washing over mind and soul and body. I like to go and be lost within the fog. To get involved with my dreams so closely, that I’ll forget to think about where I’m going. I love to let the fate and the fairies choose the direction for my drifting and I trust them to choose wisely. I’m thrilled by the sensation of a touch in a foggy passage when I get to meet other drifting souls. When we bump into each other and reaction follows. Drifting together. Or apart, all depends on a power of collision. The anticipation of a blind encounter makes my heart skips a bit and my soul swims care free in a thick milky ocean of imagination. I would drift in a fog till the end of time…any time…

Rich in out…nothing is out of reach, the sun is shining, the sky is filled to the very horizon by the blues so bright, it sparkles when you look at it, the summer is all over you, touching unsuspected skin with his warm sun-like kiss. The two months’ nature’s tears have finally dried out and she smiled and this smile ricocheted off your lips with a tickle, you can’t help but smile her back. Hot and bright is the air, naked flesh is everywhere on display, pushing limits of tolerance.  Awwww…British summer is finally here, though they say, only for a brief moment, only to reach out and stroke you gently on your chin, only to mark you happy right here and right now, to make your two day rich filled with summer smiles…

Sweet taste of summer disturbs my taste buds, calls them out of the peaceful tranquillity and into the pool of sweet and cool sensations. A cone of ice cream savoured at a pool side is a temptation difficult to resist.  Or strawberries and cream served on a green blanket of a sunlit meadow for the forest fringe picnic. Surrounded by sweet scent of honeysuckle, fruity and warm and gently erotic, the dreams are carried away on the butterfly’s wings in inspiration to fly high. Watch them fluttering around in the air, pick the one of your fancy, grasp her into your palms and keep her safe. Sweet dreams of summer have this tendency to lure your mind into the lazy nest, lay you down in the warm sheets of a languor of a summer day, and seduce your soul with a sweet scent of a rare wild flower.

Captured by the cool. That first breath of fresh air when you step outside your wall with the first sun rays making their way to greet you. The sharpness of sensation, not as an ouch but as a tickle to your throat that says it’s time to clear it out and to speak or to sing the morning welcome song and to send a smile towards the skies so that she’ll reflect off the blue and fall upon some one out there who is standing on their side, and, like yourself, is barely awaken to the first moments of a day. What it’s gonna be. Just what you want it to be, no more, no less then that…apparently.

You are chosen It. Dreams and illusions are hiding around, teasing you softly enough to escape your grasp, yet strong enough to make you change direction. Here. There. Every where. Their whispers slip into your mind on the skateboards of provocative suggestions, insisting. Listen. Their giggles are your satnavs set for the catch. Their touches, daring and reticent at the same time, miss leads you off your mind. And into a dream of another. Lost in being unaware of yourself.Of who you are. Of where. Of when. Of with whom. The walls swirl into colourful rainbows as you walk them pass. A perception of the parallel space, a wanderer’s land. Enticing call to step in and explore. One doesn’t have to have their eyes wide opened to see. To feel. To sense the adventures. Find and tag them.

She touched me with the branch of rose and whispered something in my ear; she took my breath and dropped her clothes and swiped away ingrown fears. Her scarlet petals stroked my mind and set my senses wild and free; her sweetest lips went down my spine and drew from soul a silent plea. Her fingers danced across my skin and send the ripples to every cell. If I could breath, I’d breathe her in and never wish exhale again. If I could look, I’d see her soul and notice flame her passion lights; if I could listen, I’d hear her moan; if I could hold, I’d hold her tight. I’d make her body arch in my hands; I’d moist her skin in passion’s kiss; I’d take us both to the very edge and let us fall into abyss. If I could dream of making love, I’d make her  scream in joyful tears until her body begs enough until illusion disappears…

When I sit with you, my bittersweet empty…ness

Your claws etch inflamed traces with each caress

Vision of your darkness blinds my eyes

Heavy breath from your void mutes my sighs

Sound of your silence becomes my deaf…ness

When you softly wipe my tear, my hope…less dream

Cover my shoulders with a veil of faint gleam

The dam bursts open impossible to stop

A taste of ocean carried down the skin by each drop

Merged together into a powerful stream…

When you speak to me, my weakened heart…beat

Under the shelter of our secret peaceful retreat

I fall silent like a child soothed by a lullaby

Eyes close in peace and the tears run dry

And I sink deep Into the quiet of defeat…

With any good Knight there is a possibility…of being swept off one’s feet and taken to the mount across the saddle, carried away from the reality and into a deep tale of times. With any good knight there is a chance of losing one’s head and being left breathless on a bed of passion’s dreams. Creased sheets of covers being tossed on a whim of sudden desire, scattered thoughts of touches and kisses, skimming randomly on a floor spangled with the drops of sweat left by the shameless  suggestions whispered seductively into one’s ears, as their head hits the pillow and subconscious takes the lead. Tempting mind with tantalizing images, stirring flurry of sensations, telling tales of the Knight and Night’s passions. With any good night there is a chance to live a tale, to be a hero, to save a princess and to kiss a frog. In every good  night there is a treasure hidden within. Miss it and the knight will take a diversion. Find it and you’ll never forget the Night.