A Walk of a Dreamer

Running off into the woods, running for nothing, running to reach him. Running away from him, running nearer him. Running, to be with him.
Watching, wanting to be seen. Dreaming, dreaming of him.

Playing with the wolf, so irrational acts become loved. So little things moving around are the ones worth living for. So silent laughts are what make the world go around. Simple words become poetry, and grey eyes are following me day and night. 
Tunes of lost times, filling my mind. The melody of thoughts I had forgotten. Songs of innocence, good memories of who I once was. The hope of being set free, by the one who made me break every promise. By the one who saw the beauty of the beast.

 Not a god, nor really human. A wolf of the pack he is. A child of the wilderness, yet a child of the society. A pup, who is not frightned, by the hard ways of life. Not for now, at least. The plays of life, mastering them without secound thoughts. A boy of the shadows of reality, still with two paws in the land of dreams.

A disaster indeed, all oaths are broken. All ideals are gone. But in the end there might be some beauty, some beauty in all this madness. A dream, a hope of being truly free.
My beautiful disaster…