Are you awake tonight? No, it is day, just beginning for you. No doubt you are swimming in the dreams that seem to join us before we wake. The letter, yes, I am struggling with it again, something requiring care, like the crafting of a fine piece of silver. The words start and stop as I carefully place them on the page, struggling to speak.
My thoughts go back to someone who came here once and said I should keep the words private. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I should fill the pages of the private space I started, for you, but then I remember, you do not know where that space is nor do you, without a letter from me, have the key to enter.
Maybe these words were never meant for you, and I should keep them locked away, but I cannot think I was given something so special only to write them on the paper pages of a journal, one day to be tossed aside. Listen to me ramble now about things that to others, possibly even you, sound like foolish words. None of it is foolish, I can assure you of that, though some of it is, I will admit, rather unbelievable.
You will never know, I think, what you are to me, no matter how many words I weave. Sleep well and dream, while I find the words that would speak from my soul.