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Dreams are for the few

The moment she spoke to him, he left the room. He would not listen. He could not listen. What would he listen to? Her furious nature needed care and patience and he wished for speed. Wishes were often like this, spells and false magic men had deceived the masses into believing that dreams came true in moments of understanding when in reality, they came through the imagination of change. Change sat at the edge of understanding and thus the walk over was steadily and frequently avoided.

He turned his back. Beauty faced his shoulders in the perpendicular nature of seeing your own back in the mirror, he stared knowingly, imagining where his wings would go and contemplating the depths of the sky. He wanted quick answers; he wanted light bursting from the shadow, when he was the shadow bursting into light. She followed him to the starting point, the place where all decisions were made and waited- her voice locked into the movement of his response. Her exquisite venom burning beneath his feet, urging him to open his mouth, to close his eyes and spread his back in the perpendicular parallel of flight he wanted.  When he did, he would know that wishes were not for the light-hearted.

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