Mystery eludes the firmament;
The unbeliever rejoices, yet certitude
Is but a pause, the prelude
To an inexplicable and joyous lament.
The sheets do not talk. The warm breeze
does not know that autumn is near;
The language of premonition
Is burrowed like a fossil in my pillow.
While seated in meditation
You walked past my shut eyes,
My face in peaceful repose,
My still body, more still than a garden.
As the first light stirs
Not a single word is spoken:
Your arms seek me beneath the covers.
My soul finds you beyond the clouds.
I love you, though it pains,
And the pain to me shows
Exalted mountains, expansive plains
Where once I chose
To lie, somnambular and closed.
The wind sweeps like a broom
Through my lungs,
Like a meek old lady, in a half-lit store, closing shop.
It is overcast today. I feel a calm
That makes me tremble with life.
Enjoy the sky, but know that
The heart is a molecule of water.
My life is more than my life,
More than possession can define.
My life is your life:
Because of you I refer to things as ours.
Who would topple the pillars
Of his heart to be a lover
In the rubble?
Who would resign himself
To a fate of apple skins
I went looking for overflowing dreams
And lost them in shadowless days.
Someone let the children roam
And forgot to call you back.
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