Anima Moods

The Voice of my Dream says to me:

I long to be alone again
In the audible silence
Of much space and stillness

To grow from within
Roots reaching up into the heaven of my feeling
Drawing the sweet sustenance that nourishes and fills
That is the pine grove
The cabin in woods
The fire
The high mountain
The lakeside
The thunder and pelting rain
The wind that howls and the rising moon

Perhaps it is death
Then let it be done that I may arise out of my own ashes
Or at least once and for all
Scattered to the winds

The Voice of Her Poet sings in return:

This is Her

She

The one who always waits for me

Who watches me

Who talks to me

And when she feels like this to me

Most often I believe her

Then I understand the Romantic poets and painters

And feel great sympathy with them

Then I see how this seeming virgin

Seduced so many people