Alchemical Prose…

Reconstructing Christina
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.To the writers who beguile me with their prose prowess…
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΅〜  ೋღ  ღೋ 〜΅
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Wield your words just so…
Ignite my Intrigue…
Captivate my curiosity…
Luring my imagination to undiscovered realms…
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Enchant me…
Entice my devotion…
Your alchemical prose alluding, evocative…
Pleasure or pain…
We journey to both, through both… together…
Fascinate my imagination with your literary fusion…
And I will spend my minutes with you…
For your magical words, your spell.
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Do the impossible task of creating fire…in my mind, incendiary.
Introduce me to your magical working…
Evoke sensate thought, synesthesia…
Slip inside my dreams…
Conjure a mysterious world separate and apart from the mundane…
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Adventure through kaleidoscopic emotions…
Powerful, strange, surreal…
Fates foretold, secrets disclosed…
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Inside out, upside down, the other way round…
Dance me through your words…
Spinning… spinning… spinning….
Leave me breathless…
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And then…
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Evanesce…as all the best dreams do…
only able to exist within the confines of my mind,
Filtering through my thoughts, feelings, dreams, perspectives…
Affecting them…
Transmutation…
As your locution becomes…
My alchemical prose…
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΅〜  ೋღ  ღೋ 〜΅
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If you would like me to read this to you…
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΅〜  ೋღ  ღೋ 〜΅
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    Christina
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Perspectives’ Prism…

Perspectives' PrismA vast plethora of varying variables…
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     Mine…
              Yours…
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Arbitrary perceptual perspective…
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     When your perceptions become the subconscious mechanism of your every reaction…
     In which you presuppose what a situation or thing, a reaction, will be before you are in the moment of happening.
     You are then bringing the future to the present, not the true future, only your perspective of what it will be… before it can be anything. This moment when observed in its raw, open, transparent state, using all of your senses…  is malleable.
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     Two distinct perspectives. Which holds truth? Or is it merely a compromise between us both? Who argues the loudest, reacts violently…in words, action, or deed? Is that the one who holds the truth?
     In the simple action of allowing one beat of a breath before accepting or rejecting this moment as it is, without your assignation of your past biases…filtering what it could be, with what you assume it to be….masking the true moment.
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Life then, becomes Perspectives’ prism…
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΅〜  ೋღ  ღೋ 〜΅
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If you would like me to read this to you…
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΅〜  ೋღ  ღೋ 〜΅
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    Christina

΅〜  ೋღ  ღೋ 〜΅

Moments of Me…

Melancholy ebrusidarportrait deviantart
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In all of the moments before I cannot be…
It is now.
This moment.
This breath…
That holds Life’s essence, vitality.
The moments before…
sprinkled through time…
are only echoes
of what was once a part of me.
⊱╮
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  Each echo of a moment holds its own unique resonance,
reverberating for always within me.
Some, bring effervescent happiness and joy…
Some, elicit the fervent wish for the power to negate their existence…
Some, carry eclipsing darkness…searing…
⊱╮
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   At times, they are so impossibly loud it seems I cannot bear it…
but then…
I recognize they are only here affecting me,  unrelentingly, …
because I have not let them go.
⊱╮
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 These are my moments’ echoes…
Moments of me…
With the deep breath of my intent…
I set them free.
⊱╮
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΅〜  ೋღ    ღೋ 〜΅
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΅〜  ೋღ    ღೋ 〜΅
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.  Christina

΅〜  ೋღ  ღೋ 〜΅