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Setting Fire

I yearn for the caring touch of a woman. For the warmth of her skin and the softness of her curves. I dream to pull her in close, my hand and the small of her back. I wish... I wish to look her in the eyes and know she is mine. To watch her hair as it dances in the wind. To see her smile... I dream of this from afar. Not far from life but far from love. For I have no doubt that I myself am alive. Living more so than most, or so I'd like to think. For now in my life, in my pursuits, it takes more than the mundane to keep me moving, to fill my heart with passion. I have become an animal of necessity, of experience. An addict of forced reality wherein the moment is all that matters. The love of a woman and the harshness of the Mountain.

Warm, soft, caring.

Unforgiving, cold, relentless.

Each loved for the feeling of existence, of unwavering focus, and the desire that each themselves demand. I am a man of passion. A man of extremes. For in this place far from warmth, far from safety I am forced away from distraction. Forced into the moment. A masochistic retreat into the human condition. To search my soul for feeling, and my mind for focus. A search for challenge and alas necessity. Whatever that may be... A willful plunge into an unforgiving world. A masquerade of devotion as I wait... I wait for this dream to become reality.

You and me.



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