I hear the violinist in the background as we finally find
our way to our secret hideaway…the place we have been looking for. That little
gazebo in the middle of peaceful undergrowth with a pond stretching around us
like fingers holding the weight of the world…that peace is something that
cannot be replaced. The fingers hold us like the weight of the world, cradling
us in the midst of solitude.
The bow is
pulled across the nylon with every beat of our hearts. The synchronicity is
something I long for; something so sacred…something too sacred to be merely
described with words. As the music caresses us, we fall into its rhythm. We
effortlessly lose ourselves to the trappings of the darkness, but we smile as
we fall into the pit of peace.
Your eyes
shimmer so deeply and brightly, as if they had a light of their own. The smile
you display is a beautiful display of affection, the red lipstick luminescent
in contrast to your pale skin. Cold entraps you, but with a romantic twist, the
nature of which I cannot describe…I can only feel the beauty of your iced skin,
as it remains so piercing but soft. Your dress radiates with its white tint,
and your hair falls to the sides of your face. I purposely draw a few locks of
hair over your eyes just to brush the strands back to reveal your pale blue
oceans.
Our dance has
already begun…I know that it has. Let us smile and join our hands to move so
slowly in our own elegance.
Daniel Helle, Sixteenth of May, Two Thousand And Eleven.