There are seven runes I inscribe and three more because you are not near. Space glass wands from which the voice of ghosts can be heard, sonic emanations that defy space and time. I hear you on the other side. You cast a spell on me and I am enamored deeper still, falling as if into a dark well of wonderful.
More runes bring me sacred scripts that tell of your open heart, your bleeding soul, your wanton lust. It's as if you are here with me yet when I look around I see only ghosts and memories. I conjure magic from my finger tips, forging love grimores on space age tablets. I beckon you and plead to you. But the distance between you and me, between life and where ever the cruel gods have stored your spark is far too great a chasm.
I cannot imagine that all this could end. I cannot breath in that thought, cannot live in it. I mustn't move or risk breaking the spell. I mustn't push too hard or smile too much or want too often. The illusion will fade like motes of dust in the window's sun beams.
I cast a spell with wands and dancing finger pads and conjure your image. I gaze into the eyes of a ghost I had lost so long ago. I cannot move, I am bewitched. A smile steals an inch of my face. I will it away for fear of witch hunters and puritans that would burn those like me at the stake. They cannot understand magic anymore that a rock can understand the sky. They cannot understand the mating of souls, a cosmic force unmoving, unbreakable.
Ghosts shall be my companions, for now. I shall practice the art of digital magic, I shall cast the spells that bring your heart to me and mine to you until one day the chasm is nothing and the cold distance between us can be found no more. I am your wizard and you are my sorceress.