Stone and water I am, ploughed earth and tree root. I am behind the lids of every eye that sleeps: man, woman, child, bird, beast. I am thin-stretched as gossamer and deep rooted as oak.
There is little I left. But sometimes something of that I catches on a memory in a dream, and I shimmer briefly into something like the thing I was. A shadow on stone, a reflection on trembling water.
The dream is all water, and I lap against the shore. The dreamer is here, and I rise up out of sea foam (http://alisonamazed.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/set-6052180-vnno1oxp3rg8sbwt1vvcqw-l1.jpg?w=990) like something she remembers. Once, once.
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There is little I left. But sometimes something of that I catches on a memory in a dream, and I shimmer briefly into something like the thing I was. A shadow on stone, a reflection on trembling water.
The dream is all water, and I lap against the shore. The dreamer is here, and I rise up out of sea foam (http://alisonamazed.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/set-6052180-vnno1oxp3rg8sbwt1vvcqw-l1.jpg?w=990) like something she remembers. Once, once.