She pulls away from my vision, rounding the corner of my conscience, allowing me only a glimpse, teasing, taunting, testing me; challenging my very being. You are; you are not; it doesn’t matter, or does it? I want Her, that much I know. Oh, how I want Her, I need Her as I need air. And yet, I breathe. Heavily, desperately, on . . . and on . . . and on I breathe . . . in . . . and out; sauntering along the monotonous treadmill shuffle of even the best of lives. I know this because factually speaking, I have a very fortunate life indeed, filled with love.
Still, She beckons.