Dreams drift across the moon
Followed by clouds
Quite unnecessarily pushing their lugubrious path
Across her melancholy face;
Bringing the lights temporarily down
On night's silent theatre.
The moist dark air
Swoops down among the grass blades,
The tremors insufficient
To shake them from the clinging dew.
The Owl's mournful lament distantly hails
My presence amongst the stars,
A soft, unquestioning greeting.
Under the comforting sanctuary
Of a tree-clad basilica;
Blithely I totter on a precipice
- A knife's edge separating
Those uncommon Sisters;
Reality and Fantasy.
Smiling, I recognise and welcome
The latter - her beguiling smile
Nurtures altruistic blandishments
From awkward lips of frustration.
Yet a mind befogged by loneliness
Transforms - burgeoning with longing
As in the gloom-soaked dusk
A wrecked imagination
Broken on the rocks of cold reason,
Sees the shining beacon of your face
Promising a life raft for my hopes.
I see perfection in your body
Declared to sunken eyes by the moon's lamp.
Then beats a Hummingbird's wing
As reality is drowned under
Hormonal tears that splash
The cold barrier of respectability,
Only penetrated by kindred minds.
In the growing fires of our thoughts
You, like I, gambol, bathed in the liberty
Of what love demands should have been.
And who are we
To strive against the will of Venus?
Even in dreams we are her slave.
