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awakening

 

“We and worlds are less alive than dolls and dream.”

-e.e. cummings

 

when i awake to find

the tropical scent of your

dreaming passion washing over

my bronzed and rippling shoulders

gentle as the white foam on a blue wave

wafting its way toward black tropical sands

seeking the shifting edge where ancient dualities

meet once again to kiss for the first, last and only time

 

then i awake to discover not you

but myself dreaming within a dream

passion dreaming over passion washing

my rippling flesh into your bronzed flesh rippling

gently as white foam floating on blue water wafting

slipping through the shifting spaces of tireless black sands

defining the uncharted space wherein ageless unity embraces

all that we ever were, all that we will ever become, all that we are

 

just one man eternally loving just one woman just

gentle white foam on wafting blue waves rising and falling

just one love loving one love, tirelessly love loving love itself

 

dreaming of awakening or awakening in a dream

either way, it matters or matters not, either way

i love you my beloved dark one, my mirabai

 

mark christopher valentine

(october 20, 2001)

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