THE WEAVE:
“Vesta!” Moonie implores,
“Pass this missive, to my
Sunny lover-boy.”
MOONIE's MISSIVE Time is bent. The Times we are together most, I am not reaching for you. I am called into mySelves, by other Ways, tickled to drum up a dusty spell, not wrought today, responding to you perfectly, before your words I've read. Is that somehow enough for you? To know the magick lives, but keep it bayed? You are not creating me. We are simply tangled.