Breathe
In, two, three, four
Out, two, three, four

Voices
Filter, static recedes
His presence is known

Magic
Cadence slow, metered
Mellow notes rumble

Dreamer
He whispers, warm in my ear
Lulling me through sweet sleep

Soulfinder
Freedom is his message
Calling my spirit to soar

It is still midnight.

Post Script:
Channeling Viggo.
I thought of that this morning while driving to work, and the feeling of those two words prompted this, loosely termed, grouping of words. So I started writing on an envelope. My son thinks I shouldn't use it as a title though. Says it's creepy. And I am not entirely convinced those words apply to what has been written. Pretentious of me to think I could translate to words. I really can hear the voice, I guess it just isn't mine to define. Ok it's late and I ramble into incoherence.