She's back.

.
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I'm pretty sure, this time, who it is.  There is a psychic scent about all folk.  If I get to know them, I learn to see it, I suppose as learning to see through the code in the movie The Matrix.  But the distance in time and space is great, and she is staying hidden.  Either by strong choice or because she is wandering in her sleep.  Dames are such drama queens, especially if they... have it.  If they can afford to squander some of a man's want and attention, she will dance that dance.

Why, I thought to myself, is she here.  Oh, it's not to open closed doors.  It's not to attempt to rekindle a lost flame.  It is just to visit.  To claim what is owed, to dance in her favorite moonlight, even as a gift.  Accolades for a master.  I think she finally realizes I did not abandon her.  I gave her a choice.  A choice, I no know, she shouldn't have been given.  That's not how it works.  But then it took me decades to understand... or accept... some things.  I won't make the same mistakes again.  She was my... finishing school in the art and war of love.


It is good to "see" her.  I say a little prayer for her.  She wasn't right, but she was right for the time.  Used?  Not intentionally, or negatively.  A last chance at love, for her.  A chance, I think in the end, she realized she couldn't take.  She found her way out and I let her go.  Odd how, sometimes, two wrongs do end up making a right.  Yes, prayers, for her.  I'll keep her on my list for this next week.  Along with some questions and offerings from my side of things, and a bequest for grace.

Dames can really sneak up on a guy.  Ghosts aren't always dead.  Mix and match and this is what I have for the night.  I must be doing better to have wandered into this new morass.  Then again, it is probably her visiting.  Strange birds, dames.  They often offer healing with pain.  They are so small, perhaps they are right?  It is their way, sometimes.  This time.