Past midnight, Cinderella is back to her insomnia, reviving Don Quichot and his windmills through a drizzle of Alphabet letters:
"Lover of mine is
Screaming silently liberate me from pain
Or drown with me in pain
I utter neither
As the Sun of love rises on the rose's petal
Everything wells up for a dew even faraway mist
The fullness of one lived moment encompasses all
Non judging what is as its prerequisite
Lover of mine is
Fighting his ghosts with shrewed discipline
I whisper past wind
Let them in so to let them go
As pain loses its label
All is a lived intensity
For who grasps depth of water
In addition to the effortless unfolding of 'to flow'
Lover of mine is
Resisting his past by judging his pain
Shredding his valley of hermits with an outcry
Blind to celebrating the beauty her eternal soul still shines
As windmills are attacked
Poem by poem
I wave, stop and come closer to heart
To breathe in its garden and simply be
Lover of mine
Whom I have not meet ... still
Let go of your scores
And let us hum a sky for wings."
Cinderella blows off the candle and sits by the window that looks to the other shore smiling yet this time she shifts her gaze to the North Star guiding all. She spots a shooting star of the soul that left too early. She kisses her with the brightest wishes on an endless journey. She apologizes too for the weeping brother who is mourning himself without a sister. The two girls laugh about his stubborness. One day he, like Don Quichot, is going to wake up from the trance.
10 min past the drizzle, she lit again herself for one last note, signing out the trilogy:
"Lover of mine whom I have never meet but read
Untangle sensuality from pain and punishment
It is not a tactic rather a world of alive love
Bursting out ever stronger to all that is"
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