Mein Wächter von Geheimnissen

You know something's amiss when the clock reads 50 after nine and you didn't hear either the radio or the beeping. And these things are supposed to go on forever. I must've been too deep in the Dream or else the snow had blanketed the whole unit again. And I'm right on, trudging through a sizable depth, shaking the gray slush, weighed down by all the stuff I had to bring with me today, this being the first, the last of the recovery after a long weekend spent in anticipation that played off quite well. Despite the absence of the sun, I've a feeling that everything's going to be all right. 

Die folgenden Sachen enthalten ein Korn der Wahrheit. "The following items contain a modicum of the truth."
Illustrate a moment in six pages or less. I have the better part of an hour to tell you how it all went, dreamer of crystal blue vision.  I know not whether it would be folly or an absolute truth, but a palpable ache leads to an inner discussion. Faint lines are drawn and the division of the private self and the shared self becomes painful in a moment's run. An insatiable curiosity possesses me to draw you near and show you everything, 
to illustrate the entire being that you have come to know in the space of a few months 
and banish the walls that separate us more than physical distance. Longing is my scroll, passion is my aegis. 

Ever so gently 
The seventeenth of the first in the owl's eyes. 
The Willing embark on an adventure. 

I kept wanting to return to sleep, wanting to catch a glimpse of her in the snatches and glimmer of the Realm's endless possibilities. But the chimera playfully escape me, there were none I could completely remember. The feeling finds shelter and strengthens in me, though I grasped nothing that would endear itself in manifestation. Finally this body could not withstand anymore. The grayness of withdrawing from the cove and unto the waking world, of going back at all is a calm and deliberate fashion. There is no overwhelming urgency. Let's go by the numbers. 
The sky looked heavy. I stirred from within, a lumbering hungry being with no profound purpose, but nonetheless harboring an unnatural desire. There was somewhere I needed going to and something I needed doing. And the sky turned upon itself, devouring the remnants of a blurry sun.
Portentous, indelicate, stricken with urgency the wind rose. It wanted to tell me something. 

Override unspecified impulse. 
"...she tells me in all straightforward bearing. Am I that transparent?
Or do I bear aspirations of transparency but the old walls are difficult to let go of?" 

I did not tell her, but the hunger was too insistent, and actually set the tone for the entire duration. Frenzied, animal, fleeting moments, 
easily invisible. Carefully restrained intense imagery, a sliver in the projected future where reality and vision embrace in expectancy and 
meld into hope and finality. She invites captured fervor. 

The one 
and eight 
of the first 
in the owl's eyes. 

I am still as calm water. 
The ambient noises of the rest of this room fill out and expand, creating their own universe, providing their own purpose. I have no business being awake at this hour. I should be in dreamtime, where promises find bounty and Happiness is surprisingly real. Am I strong enough to let go of my wants? Have I fulfilled my station in life? These are the symptoms of a plateau that will be reached as soon as I find myself again. There has been a change in the very fabric of my being. Have you seen it? I found contentment and wallowed in it, and saw a weakening, finding it complacent. 
I have no reason for wanting, but not wanting leads me astray and leads further into discontent. 
Sooner than I figure I am once again at the beginning. 
I find you here, kismet. I share with you my desire. 

Bumalik at ulitin. I have something for you. 

This my heart, 
entwine your dreams in mine, 
See with my eyes. 

Lend grace by providing the afflicted with a response, kia. 
Your dearest friend, 
( herein my name is signed )