Her mind is like a Scottish Moor. On the surface its bright and beautiful. Dig in just a little bit and it appears as if it were Dusk. The light is going slowly but surely, until there is only darkness. Tread lightly dreams, for there is no sure footing in this moor. Upon looking to the sky there is a storm above, brewing and brooding. How she longs for the clouds to clear and let the light back in, not just for a period but for a year? Maybe 2 or three? "Just stay with me!" Her constant struggle with herself; at the cusp of getting lost, free just to wander aimlessly, painfully, searching for the light, hoping that when it comes it stays longer each night, but she knows it can not, she can not do it alone and then she wakes confused, relieved. "It was but a dream?" Yet she knows it was and it wasn't. Her mind is like a Scottish Moor where dreary dreams dwell and light is but a guest, a fleeting guest, never to stay, never more.
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