There are times when the air is so still and the night and all of its glorious mystery
beckons me to it
feeding my inner desire
to wander into oblivion
nameless
and then I feel alive
my body comes alive
awakening an ache for a touch that only this vast emptiness supplies
I see myself cloaked in this same dark mystery
enveloped in black with my
white body hidden
beneath this
fantasy
the time does not matter
the wind flies free
and holds me still
so that it can discover every inch of
my nakedness
this weightless force sends me into a fire that consumes my blood and spreads it to
all of my pooling cells collecting themselves in the
spots
that
do
not
mind
such rushes
Your poems are my favorite. For the varying rhythm, for the crispness, for the escape. For the connection most of all.
ReplyDeleteThank you.. it is interesting to me that words can be interpreted and read in such a varying degree. A simple emphasis on one word can change the entire feel and meaning of a phrase.
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