a thing of beauty
passes between hearts
a known moment
as a piercing or a softness
I dreamt of a man growing clouds from plant pots, I called one Love and the other War, I dreamt I fell from a fun ride and couldn't get back on, losing all my belongings forever, I dreamt jasmine was growing in my bedroom, a flowering at the end of my bed before a wide window
you and I sat together
it was enough
the kiss, our bodies
an honesty in blue
of night and stars and eclipse
of bright day
your face in the light
your beautiful face
I looked again at the first verse and knew I was struggling to say what my heart remembers, I remember a moment, I remember more, one uncaptured timeline, one which is a warmth in my chest, an opiated sensation in my body, a closing of my eyes to a serenity with a brightness behind
this poem could go on
and I would never be able to say what I want
for how can one explain a gloriousness that was once held in the hand
I did not ask 'Who are you?' for I chose to watch how you leaned towards me, how you smiled and the depth of your eyes. I chose to feel your skin next to mine, the trace of your hand, your lips. I chose to listen to your heart and then to your words and try to see what lay between. I wished for your presence as the Sun rises or the flower opens; gifts that come freely without bidding; something true to know.
And yet it seems that one never knows.
And the truth changes.
And the depth of one's eyes can be a cruel reflection.
I dreamt of a man growing clouds from plant pots, I called one Love and the other War.