Read Online A Breath Until Forever by Keira D. Skye - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Keira D. Skye
Ads: Link
the loneliness that she so often felt.
“Sometimes I feel so lost,” She began. She didn't look up, rather she kept her eyes glued on the paper, reading in a monotone voice, soft as a whisper, uncomfortable with bearing her soul, feeling the same hurt she felt when she wrote in on a balmy August 4 th , 1968, right after coming back from a trip out to Anaheim California where she painted a family who owned a winery. “Like I have lost my way. The path of which I wander appears more like a maze. Then the right way. Where will my next move be? Like the game of chess. I need a strategy. To get me to the next level so I can be my best. Be all I can be sometimes I feel so blessed. Been given such precious gifts. Given so many good things. And I appreciate this but I want more and more I wouldn't consider it greed. I want more than what I have been given. It is my hunger, my need. I want to feel full for this emptiness in my heart to be filed what will I fell it. I don’t know but I would be completely thrilled to find that special place. The place where I belong to be the journey that take same high and I can clearly see. I'm on the road to self Discovery. Maybe someday and sometimes I will find. Myself I and me with 20/20 vision and not blind perhaps I need a compass and point to a wishing star. So it can direct me to the place I want to be. Lord, is it very far?”
Upon reading the last word, Meredith crumpled up the paper again, than put it back in her purse, among old lipstick missing its case, a slightly fractured mirror, her leather Indian wallet, and other pieces of random paper with grocery lists, her goals and random sketches of this and that.
“Beautiful.” He smiled. He looked up at her, locked his eyes with hers, and tilted his chin towards himself. “Just like you.”
Meredith blushed, feeling the fire in her cheeks light up like hot fire.
Just by listening to the poem he knew that she felt lost. Lucky for Meredith, his heart had a compass.
He then quoted some poetry he learned in Berkeley that he knew himself. “Beauty too rich to use, for earth too dear.”
He cited his source of inspiration. “Shakespeare.”
“The royal king of words.” Meredith bowed down to him.
“Indeed.” He smiled, his blue eyes electrified her heart. And as if Meredith was a royal queen, he bowed back, and he knew in that very special moment, that the chivalry of respecting poetry was not yet dead.
“I took a Shakespearean class my first semester. I got it when nobody else did. It got through to me. Appealed to me in such a way that I would sometimes feel this strong heavy pounding in my chest. And sometimes, although I hate to admit it, when had too much to overcome, it saved me.” A flashback of all the times that Shakespeare saved him went flooding through his mind, and he began to remember all of the good times that had been raised from the dead, because of it. He had long ago put Shakespeare at rest at Berkeley, and now he wondered why he had not used the same resources as he did a long time ago when he had gone through some trying times here at the ranch.
Meredith swore she loved him more than ever now and more then love when he shared this poetic intimacy with her. Not only was he a kind and generous man, but he shared the love of the old words of beautiful prose that was a testimony of hearts.
Joshua took Meredith's hand, and held it, feeling the softness and warmth of such a romantic gesture capture his widened heart. They walked hand in hand, slowly as to take in every moment as if it were their last, leisurely strolling through the jungled wildness of flowers down nature made paths and headed back towards the house. A more sadistic darkness was slowly creeping in now, and was beginning to take shape.
The evening was beginning to bathe the trails with the blackness of oil, and so Meredith and Joshua pushed down patches of thistle berries more steadfast
“Sometimes I feel so lost,” She began. She didn't look up, rather she kept her eyes glued on the paper, reading in a monotone voice, soft as a whisper, uncomfortable with bearing her soul, feeling the same hurt she felt when she wrote in on a balmy August 4 th , 1968, right after coming back from a trip out to Anaheim California where she painted a family who owned a winery. “Like I have lost my way. The path of which I wander appears more like a maze. Then the right way. Where will my next move be? Like the game of chess. I need a strategy. To get me to the next level so I can be my best. Be all I can be sometimes I feel so blessed. Been given such precious gifts. Given so many good things. And I appreciate this but I want more and more I wouldn't consider it greed. I want more than what I have been given. It is my hunger, my need. I want to feel full for this emptiness in my heart to be filed what will I fell it. I don’t know but I would be completely thrilled to find that special place. The place where I belong to be the journey that take same high and I can clearly see. I'm on the road to self Discovery. Maybe someday and sometimes I will find. Myself I and me with 20/20 vision and not blind perhaps I need a compass and point to a wishing star. So it can direct me to the place I want to be. Lord, is it very far?”
Upon reading the last word, Meredith crumpled up the paper again, than put it back in her purse, among old lipstick missing its case, a slightly fractured mirror, her leather Indian wallet, and other pieces of random paper with grocery lists, her goals and random sketches of this and that.
“Beautiful.” He smiled. He looked up at her, locked his eyes with hers, and tilted his chin towards himself. “Just like you.”
Meredith blushed, feeling the fire in her cheeks light up like hot fire.
Just by listening to the poem he knew that she felt lost. Lucky for Meredith, his heart had a compass.
He then quoted some poetry he learned in Berkeley that he knew himself. “Beauty too rich to use, for earth too dear.”
He cited his source of inspiration. “Shakespeare.”
“The royal king of words.” Meredith bowed down to him.
“Indeed.” He smiled, his blue eyes electrified her heart. And as if Meredith was a royal queen, he bowed back, and he knew in that very special moment, that the chivalry of respecting poetry was not yet dead.
“I took a Shakespearean class my first semester. I got it when nobody else did. It got through to me. Appealed to me in such a way that I would sometimes feel this strong heavy pounding in my chest. And sometimes, although I hate to admit it, when had too much to overcome, it saved me.” A flashback of all the times that Shakespeare saved him went flooding through his mind, and he began to remember all of the good times that had been raised from the dead, because of it. He had long ago put Shakespeare at rest at Berkeley, and now he wondered why he had not used the same resources as he did a long time ago when he had gone through some trying times here at the ranch.
Meredith swore she loved him more than ever now and more then love when he shared this poetic intimacy with her. Not only was he a kind and generous man, but he shared the love of the old words of beautiful prose that was a testimony of hearts.
Joshua took Meredith's hand, and held it, feeling the softness and warmth of such a romantic gesture capture his widened heart. They walked hand in hand, slowly as to take in every moment as if it were their last, leisurely strolling through the jungled wildness of flowers down nature made paths and headed back towards the house. A more sadistic darkness was slowly creeping in now, and was beginning to take shape.
The evening was beginning to bathe the trails with the blackness of oil, and so Meredith and Joshua pushed down patches of thistle berries more steadfast
Similar Books
