NIght Time Reverie

He is a man, strong in his ways,

Any rare insight into his temperament
Only the Universe can reveal,

Or old sages who thought long of conundrums

When stars glint, he winks back at them;

Those nights he dreams,
He dreams in more dimensions than one:

And the specters of his mind
Are as vivid as a painting can contain!

So well his undertaking goes…
He touches my brow,

He fills me with starlight conversations,
My mind with imperious dreams

I sip gently from the cup offered from his hand

His touches, hot and languid, on ivory skin:

He the spark; I, the combustion

Rounding me, fanning me over the top

My eyes lock on him and his repose;

Love in a mind, and adores a muse

He moves quick and light but enough

His arms round and wrapping endlessly

His hands like ribbons flowing smoothing in air,

Over my hip to lip to cause the quiver

Let the heart quicken, and grass crush beneath:

His motion feels of my own;

I know freedom…I know infinity.

He is soon no more than a shadow of smoke.

I reach to touch him, feel his soft cheek

He is gone, the grass still warm where he was:

Waking and knowing-all at once and not at all.