This scene is so familiar somehow.
Though instead of cheap cement and concrete
the walls were made of stone.
I close my eyes
and i can feel the same sense
of magic in the air
but the picture has changed:
I'm sitting at a beautiful grand oak table,
ancient scrolls with symbols, runes and herbs laying at the end of the table.
My hands running down the silk dress i wear,
long, flowing, extravagant.
A crown resting on my head
symbolizing my power.
Safe in my casted circle.
You walked in then,
just as you did now.
The face and body you wore was different than it is now
but i always know it's you.
My Prince.
Your hand imediately clasps mine
a habbit you've always done from lifetimes before.
In that moment my sight is brought back to the present:
the stone work back into the graffitied brick garage wall,
my dress into a baggy hoodie and black and white plaid pajama bottoms,
your shirt transforms from a royal court cape
to a novelty t-shirt with a silly slogan on it.
My Prince.
I smile at you,
the face of this lifetime,
and i can still see what i'm able to see
each time we find each other:
it's not hard to recognize once i see it,
the sense that the other half of my soul that i didn't realize was missing
has just danced into the room
capturing the attention of all the other seekers, mesmerizing the other dancers
and reaches out and grabes my hand.
It happens so easily
everytime,
and each time
i hold your hand
you guide me back
to our
perfect paradise.