You appeal to me in a gestalt way. There is something, some secret lacuna within me, which you fill..Amorina mia bella, like velvet honey on my tongue

The moon pales starkly, casting long and deep shadows over the silvered landscape. The boughs of the majestic pines swoop low as I hurtle through them, the wind cold, and stinging on my face.

So long have I sought you that sometimes I think that you cannot be real. Sometimes I think I but chase the dream of a dream. Then I see your face in a crowd. I smell the perfume of your hair as I close my eyes to sleep. I feel the warmth of your presence almost near enough to touch, and I know, with all there is in me, that you are.

My eyes snap open from my reverie. Turning aside as I leap, narrowly missing jagged rocks, I spin, landing lightly. The sharp dry needles crackle beneath my weight, my senses alert, I search for your trail.

I am Animus. My eyes are fire, my limbs smooth and strong, my will iron. I hear you then, laughing gaily. The soft sound of your footfalls muffled beneath the blanket of dry needles. Oh, how you love the chase, my love. A wry smile gleams in the moonlight. Stretching my aching muscles, then exploding forward, the wind singing in my ears, the strong scent of pine mixing with the intoxicating perfume of your hair.
The heat of my body rises off me in waves. I surges forward, ducking and vaulting over branches, lithe like a jungle cat.

I see you. Your dewy limbs long and limber as you jog ahead. You break into a clearing, slowing down, and then stopping to catch your breath.

Rushing to the edge of the clearing, I reach out and catch hold of a passing trunk, stopping myself with a jolt, nails digging into the rough bark, tearing my hand. I wait. My chest is rising and falling deeply with my exertion, yet I feel no pain as I gaze upon you.

So softly your gentle steps bend the cool grass. Your hair shining like platinum in the ghost light. Your movements smooth and unconscious. There is all the grace of the gazelle in your movement, and the beauty of the swan is in the curve of your neck as you kneel down beside the bank of a small stream I had not noticed.

Hesitantly, I emerge from the shadowed wood. My silent gait like a lover’s whisper. I draw closer to you. My hands brushing the moon bathed tops of the cool grass, wetting my fingertips like soothing kisses, while I watch you drink. Your lips, a delicate and pale rose. You bend your head to drink, closing your eyes, letting the water cool your warm skin as it trickles down from your lips along the pulse line of your throat. The water drops glisten like diamonds in the moonlight, enchanting my eyes as they trace their innocent and seductive course.

A stillness then comes over your body. Your eyes flash open. A movement like quicksilver as your body unfolds, whirling to face me in a defensive crouch. Cheeks hot and flushed, your wild eyes, fierce and dilated, your nostrils flared, breath quick and even. You regard me with trepidation and suspicion.

Slowly raising my hands to show that I mean you no harm, I drink in the sight of you. Your eyes flicker to my wounded hand, a frown ghosting your smooth brow. A mistrustful question in your eyes, answered by a gentleness in mine. You shift your shoulder subtly, taking a half step back with one foot, inviting me to the water’s edge.
The tension is relaxed, but not gone. The music of the cicadas swells and recedes as I slowly step forward. Looking you in your lapis lazuli eyes as you back away, kneeling beside the stream I trail my fingers in the water.