(here is what i would parallel with what you attempted to "create" some months ago...it is what it is, but at least this is REAL)
i missed her voice
her voice, soft and cool like the mist
mist that conjures up the soul to beleive
to beleive in more the the voice alone
transported alone across the waves
-not the waves of the sea but invisible waves-
into my ear and my head and my being.
the pang of irrational emotion-
but what is there in emotion that is rational?
must emotion, in short supply, be rationed?
no
the natural ebb and flow, like those waves of the sea-
will not be quelled.
And i say, let them come.
rather to be tossed about by churning waves
then to be detached- unable to feel a thing.
her voice
that which i missed
missed it like the morning mist must miss the once green grass in the summer heat
mysterious forces at work
but i know what i feel
let all work at what they must
and come what may
i hope
in the end
to find that which i have missed
and the one to whom it belongs as well.
peace
