There is a point where the universe can deliver you from the verge of regret. I know your love for me will take you there.

The wind went mute and the trees in the forest stood still. It was time for the last tale.

She felt the adagio from Joaquin Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez strumming at her inner thighs like a guitar, and then slowly moving upwards until it wrapped around her heart in its denouement.

They kissed in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the crowds of people flow around them like water around an island.

Once a month, ripe with psychic energy, the moon grows to Her zenith. Blazing full with the sun's rays through the night sky, it is with great compassion and love for her children that she luminesces.

Most people live their lives laying prostrate before a false god, waiting for a cue to rise. There are no cues, only decisions. Shall I have dessert? Shall I have the best of the wine? Shall I love the person next to me? They can all be brought to your table. Rise, I say, rise and look within to the truth, to the light, and tell it your decision.

Perhaps she was happiest when she was out of control. She looked at the fates and said three little words, not one regret.

Only the ocean kept the same rhythm. Crashing in and slowly pulling back out, it never lied, never changed. It tried to teach them a life of romantic consistency.

You are exposed ma chère.