The itself is turning over in its sleep. But as for me, I sit myself between the two and drift between. Visions drifting softly show of futures and things past as I unmoving view them with anticipation. Her form while unknown to me is revealed, and her warmth while I have never felt it, is like rays upon my skin. Those spheres of ever pressing light so wonderfully set next to one another in a curious expression, shine towards me and just below the lips curl into a smile. A shift in stance and an arm wraps around to fiegn modesty. Such things have I never seen and yet as clear as if the nonshining light we fixed upon it. A boundless beauty contained only by her own self. That I could reach a hand into that mind and clear and pull free of it that retched menace. Then would the vision Ben complete and her in her ever present radiance be who she really is, unfettered. Would I that she be one for me, such things uncertain, certain in these visions be. Once more the eyes close and produce sight, such clearity unavailable to those whose eyes remain open still. Come sweet vision unto me until she who is in vision bid join me.