Could you miss someone you never met?
That's that question I've been
asking myself for years.
A person you never set eyes on,
You don't know
their voice, mannerisms or moods.
Strangely you know they exist.
But how
can that be? Or can't it?
It's the summer breeze that's doing this to my
brain!
Making friends wonder if I am sane!
I've always had a
characteristic of insanity in me, coming up with the
strangest ideas that
surprise me, writing this at 4:45am because I can't sleep.
The night sky is
starting to change color, going from black to purple to
blue.
It's
almost light out yet I can see the stars, contemplating on the what
ifs, the
things that can never be, but can exist in my brian where another story
is
being written. I wonder if I lived that life for a day would it change
anything?
No idea where this drive to write down my ramblings is coming
from yet it
is here, I'm flowing with it, writing words as they come out.
The birds will start to sing in a while and I will have to wake up from
this dream, this realm, and this dimension.
I go back to the dimenson:-
Can we miss a person we never met?
Never knew existed or can exist?
Yet their presence is felt all around! It's a strange feeling, I feel an
aura round me yet no one is in the room!
I might just be a dreamer in
the night; no harm in dreaming hey? (http://www.flickr.com/photos/honest/178395212/)

Passing stranger! You do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must
be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)
I
have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall'd as we
flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with
me, were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you,
your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,
You give me
the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard,
breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when
I sit alone or wake at night
alone,
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to
meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you. (Walt Whitman)