By Alexandre
Date: 14 October 1999

Little one

No fear rests in the eyes of a man that holds courage to his breast and 
releases his verve with infinite compassion upon blessed souls.  So begins a tale of worth and woe, of dream and sorrow to last till time's unwonted 
departure.
     Gently you caress my senses, a muse in the night, as always because the night is the gate toward dreams.  To dream, a wistful scent of perfumed bouquet wafts too and fro from you.  Adorn a mask of pure and translucent veil to shine the light from thine eyes, worst come from the silent who would capture your smile with but a glace, never to soak into the primal rage of fury emanating from thy being.
      Breath extinct by the blow, I seek to breath the same air as thou as the path rushes beneath my flowing strides.  My pride ground under, I leap, I soar, I voyage.  
	Is it simply at a runners pace?  Whereas those few moments seemed though not so bright in my mind, I know them as such.  These liquid statements swell to burst and the tide rises within and breaks upon shore.   Pebbles of time trickle through my fingers as I reach to touch you.  For as words are my only witness, they be my sole possessions for keepsake.  And therefore sacred in mine eyes.
	Yet I plead, lest I start upon a journey, sorrow has no place in my tears, which beg a fruitful release.  Thus I call, upon the earth on which I 
tread, upon the wind to my breast, upon the waters on which I was borne and unto the flames where I live.  Solonel occasion to behold, my madness is loose and seeks not to be contained. For indeed I am possessed by a dark and demanding angel whom I shall name Love.