'Journeys' Link Center

Journeys of the Mind,(C)1994-2004 A. Alexander Volenski

Chapter 1, unedited excerpts.

Location: Europe
Chapter: Geneva

In fields of twilight it does seem
there is a forgotten force,
which holds its course
just like a stream,
so we may dream and dream.

Surely when we tread through life,
we often meet
a stream of dream,
but rarely do we ask ourselves
as we trod the ford,
just what it is
that brings us there,
or where we plan to go.

For as we pass
upon the path,
a wayward breeze does blow,
to cast its spell,
and direct our way
to places we don't know.

Locked to our hope
we wander so
to worlds that we should see,
and often find
our love alone,
wishing we were free.

A desire it seems
is planted there,
posted far and wide,
to reach and tell
our inner self,
just how we might abide.

And like the tide
that comes and goes,
we wait and watch in stride,
not knowing how to stop or pause
when someone we should know,
slowly passes by.

Then on some fair occasion,
unplanned and not rehearsed,
we find that time
unknown to us,
has placed us in a lurch.

Our dilemma all but ends,
once the storm has passed,
yet in the process
can we tell,
who or what it is
that we shall meet at last.

It seems in dream
the futures spelled
in words few dare to speak,
that's why sometimes
our love we find,
comes only as we think.

She touched his hair
upon her hair,
her lips upon his mouth,
and kissed his mind
with care and tune,
whispering,
"let me find you soon."

After several dreams like that,
she began to wonder why
he came to her
in dreams of love,
and never said goodbye.

Persistence was her pleasure,
patience strong and true,
as total love she wanted
to share the whole night through.

So she dressed in periwinkles,
lit by moon above,
and walked into his land of dream,
to see what there might be.

She found him there all alone
standing in the dew,
the moon shown bright
upon his face,
with eyes so clean and true,
and when he touched
her lips with his,
feelings free and new,
seemed to come from deep within
and promised,
'I love you.'

Their land of dream
they did find
was only made for two,
and as they loved
the more it grew
with pleasures that they knew.

His land of dream,
her land of dream,
together they both shared,
as they learned how love so fair--
could bring them something new.

She kissed him free
upon the mouth,
he kissed her face
so smooth,
and they held
each other there
as lover's always do.

On and on
they met in dream
loving with the moon,
in a land that ever blends
to build a love in tune.

Then one moonlit night they walked,
counting stars above,
and wondered both
if stars so bright
had lover's living too?

The land of dream,
the land awake, 
both alive and real,
spin and twirl within the world
where singing thoughts abide,
and is known to astound
the love that's not yet found,
a love that lives in cryptic spell
alone and quiet too,
quiet as the stars that shine
within the light of moon.

She kissed his eyes,
his hands and lips,
as dream began to fade,
and wished to find him when awake
the same in light of day.

As dawn did touch the sky so quiet,
her eyes she opened too,
and peered into the light so bright
to see its golden hue.

It was there upon her bed
alone with feelings new,
that she thought
how hard it was
to find a man so true.

She tried so many times
to find him man of dream,
and like a leaf
that floats in stream,
hurrying on its way,
so to her,
her thoughts in mind
scurried in the day.

That's the plight
she found with light,
until one afternoon,
when she paused
and stopped to see,
if the man who was sitting there
was truly really he...

This is how it began.

  Stilly Snow, was the kind of woman who could make a man's heart skip
a beat if she wanted too.  A woman who made men turn their heads to
look twice, when she strolled by; her rhythmic walk singing out the
eternal song titled, 'desire'.
  Today as Stilly moved along the boulevard, the afternoon sun was
brightly glowing, and she felt totally sensual as warm spring passions
led the way.  She felt flushed all over from the blazing light that
seemed to burn, and the air smelled fresh sweet tantalizing; her
thoughts were only thinking 'love'.
  Harry Locke, sat alone at a cafe on that boulevard, sipping a cool
drink while he watched the people on the busy Geneva street.  His
sidwalk table was shaded from the slanting sun and set back underneath
the awning.  The street was active, people moving everywhere, and the
tables around him crowded, it seemed everyone was out enjoying the
first hot-day of the year.  Laughter, murmurs, shouting, honking
horns, noise from the traffic, and a multitude of conversations.  It
was loud in a private sort of way, for no one seemed to notice anyone
else other than who they were with.
  Harry sipped his scotch, and as he did he looked up and suddenly
noticed Stilly passing in front of him.  Her seductive walk, shape and
form, sent his mind into a momentary blank, forcing eyes to lock on,
letting imagination free to go for a wild ride in her direction.  Her
attraction was instantaneous, coaxing and graceful, and combined with
an energy that kindled deep warm desires within him.  Desires which 
took control, passion leading him wherever it wished.
  In the wild moment he imagined himself giving all, even stepping off
a mountain and falling for days laughing and shouting all the way, if
it meant being with her, for Stilly's femininity was like an
aphrodisiac, a very over-powering aphrodisiac.  There was a daring
enigma which surround her too, one disguised within her beauty, and
he instantly wanted to glide within that realm.
  Stilly looked in Harry's direction and recognized him (as her man of
dream), then she quickly looked away, feeling shy, coy, and surprised.
She was a woman with desire, sensual provocative complete, who
transmitted that pulse, propelling it to reach out, forcing Harry's
mind and body to agree that no matter what, she should be pursued.
  Harry set his drink down and turned it slowly with his fingers never
taking his eyes off Stilly; he was suddenly captivated by her.  He
felt a warm current like a soothing drift encompass his body as his
temperature seemed to jump a few degrees, and he could feel his heart
pulse speeding up.  Then she looked back in his direction, smiling
and calling in a silent way, to reassure him that she may know
completely what he felt and 'loved every moment.'
  Stilly turned, her long blond hair rippling and tumbling as she
moved toward him, appearing like a wild creature who projected deep
searching thoughts, made to saturate and flood his mind with emotions
seductive.  Her will likened to be his will, with no fear or
apprehension to shadow that which they both might share.  His mind
and desires opened completely to whatever would happen, good or bad,
for he knew he was caught in a mind-body-lock for her, as he yielded
to her deliberate sensuous attraction.  Time was not important, hours
days months and years could pass in an instant, yet that was all given
away freely; nor did it matter, for the experience human, and even
primeval, was in command completely at that moment.  Everyone present
became unimportant, the surroundings faded into a vast misty
nothingness, sight was totally transfixed and held to her smiling eyes
and everything else she was composed of, as she came closer and
closer.  He didn't know who she was, however he knew he would soon
find out.
  Walking up to the table she sat down next to him, her perfume was
erotic and sweet, sending his mind spinning and surging within itself,
and he felt a smooth firmness beginning to rise.  She slowly slid her
arm around him, her touch was warm and engaging, and she planted a kiss
on his cheek.
  Then smiling she whispered, "I've always wanted to do that," and 
looking into her eyes he responded, "I wish you hadn't waited
so long."  As she returned his look, she sensed that he was the same
man (of dream) in every way.  Fine lines surrounded the regular 
features of his face, showing that both good and bad had painted his
mind in experiences human.  His hands were the hands of a man that 
knew strength and the use of strength.  His eyes spoke in his silence,
allowing her mind to roam freely, to answer consider or wander at will
within his personality, as a woman likened to do.  She knew and liked
his thoughts, thoughts that were totally in the present, that present
moment only, caring not at all about who-where-what may have been
before.
  Harry was a man that knew how to enjoy and live within loves short
durations.  Durations which were void of past, and even future, the
kind that lived in the immediate.  Durations' that rode the spring,
the summer, and ended as most summer loves ended (for him) as the
fascination wore off.
  Stilly wondered if she should do a 'book', a book of romantic love 
depicting them, and how it might read.  For now the pages of such a
book were empty, to be filled in as he and her emerged upon the true
reality of their horizon.  When love begins, 'it often moves like the
flight pattern of a butterfly or bird, like drifting clouds in summer
sky, or like growing green fields that sway in breeze.'
  Infatuation in itself seems deeply rooted in first moments, only
fast moving thoughts, feelings, and desires, may shade and cause it
to change or grow in undesired ways.  Harry would focus only on the
present moment, and Stilly would do the same, together they would
attempt to void-out Censor, as it moved for control!
 ...Stilly reached into her purse, took out a pen and wrote something
on a napkin that laid on the table.  She folded the napkin not saying
a word, and leaving it there she stood and walked away disappearing
into the crowd that passed on the busy sidewalk.  The cafe, filled 
with many people, seemed to absorb her as she walked away; Harry 
sipped his drink and wondered where this all would lead.
  He picked up the napkin and tapped it upon the table gazing in the
direction she had walked, and then he smiled.  Unfolding the napkin
he looked at what she had written, there were no words, only a mark
in the shape of half a heart.  The right side of the heart she had
left blank, to be filled in he surmised by himself.  Reaching for his
pen, he drew in the other half of the heart, folded the napkin and 
laid it on the table, this conceptive theme he would return to her
when they met again.  A reality that he would strive to bring about,
now that their paths had met.  He would meet her again he supposed,
for the summer was his to do as he pleased, and as he moved about the
playground in that part of the world, he would keep her in his
thoughts, along with the folded message; a passport of the heart.  All
that he had to do was follow the signs along the way, signs he knew
how to follow and recognize, and was wont to do.
  Looking as his watch, it was 3:30 pm, the afternoon sun sharp, and
as he finished his drink the waiter came over and he ordered another.
This whole experience began to seem like an elusive suggestion, a
hypnotic form perhaps, called upon to lead him where it may.  A spell
of sorts, one that he knew full well would probably end as many
summer love affairs ended.  Could he live it completely and see it 
through once he started, as the truths and desires, times and events,
eventually took hold of him.  For who knew the place this young
beauty may lead him too, or how it all may blend.  The waiter returned
with his drink, Harry paid and thanked him, and as he did he felt his
mood begin to change.  The noise from the street and conversations of
the surrounding people seemed to gain momentum, bringing him back to
reality...

~
[Next, chapter 2, Genoa & Savona.]

                                           This page created April 98
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