She danced on moon strings, a sacred Lunatic.

Wielding the borrowed light she managed to keep alive with ecstasy breathe, and the spider webs born from her mania-eyes.

Her mind devoured and created her, stole her away and grounded her in constant stagnant motion, in impossible coagulation:

it was an irony that made every laugh and cry necessary for her to find her footing.

 She was born blind, and divided against herself: sliced in two (black and white selves) by a violet light of symmetry.

 She is Love and Lunacy chasing a fleeting Understanding (a union bound to Divine clarity).

 Her voice was contained inside an automatic music box she carried in her rose stained fingers. It never sounded the same (though it always moved in the same duality patterns). In the box, were broken infinity webs she scribbled across her learning paper, and pieces of naked glass creations she had collected from conversations of Love.

 He came to her in one peace, fire dancing in his hands. He stilled the fire with his breath, his silver poised wings and sun-kissed body relaxed and fully engaged to assess her again.

He examined beneath the folds of the pink silk that protected her missing eyes.

(He was a soft, empathetic instinct.
She was a hard, primal intuition.)

 Do you see anything in the voids? She says,

I do. He says,

 What do you see?

Love and Fear. And the infinite Light web caused by the tension between them .

Anything else?

All that relatively apply.

Oh...do you think that is Good? How are the Love and Fear treating one another?

They seem to be spiraling towards the same thing, trying to devour the point that unites them. They are trying to devour the Sacrifice.

Good. And what does the Sacrifice look like?

A mirror divided against itself labeled “I” and “You”. The Fear is gnawing at both sides, while the Love is trying to swallow the I into its mouth, bending the Light to spiral from the I into the You.

That is interesting.

And also somewhat dangerous.

I have a headache, Please lend me your eyes.

She touches his cheekbones, then softly kisses his eyelids,
drinking the thoughts that danced from them like watercolor holograms.
His vision mused her as more moonflowers and ivy grew from her skin, hugging her arms.
She harvested a pearl from her hair, and gave it to him.

 The noises stopped, she sighed.
Yes, because I can hear them, he sighed.

 Her smile slightly deflated with guilt,

It only hurts if you don't see them move all at once, you have to see the whole picture. Don't trap any part against the others. Each part means because of the whole picture. Without sight of the whole picture, you will hurt. You can only know the Love if you see how it talks to Fear....

The violet light warped violently towards her black side, causing instant amnesia.
She tilted her head (with innocent inquisition).
Her posture was now somehow less alive,  the warmth in her voice swallowed by a jaded charm.

Where am I? Hello, who are you?

His lips fought tight trembling and managed to smile with sigh. (He'd always known her to always forget, to constantly remember.)

You came from the moon, and I from the sun. You borrow Our Light, to paint Beauty, blindly dancing in darkness. We witness the nature of Our Light when it is woven with Wise-Faith at night. When your mind cries or laughs itself into mania, you find me to drink my vision and I bear your headaches. ( inside himself he whispered) “Because I adore, the way your mind bleeds into your heart-beauty...”

Of course!, she chirped.

She kisses the middle of his forehead, leaving a stain. Then flies upward, with awkward grace, into the Ocean Sky where they first found each other.

 He let her go, desperately trying to assimilate apathy.