Sunday, October 18, 2015

how does the moon taste
to the tongue
is it the way that I recall
the water made of liquid stars
as the ice and fire I once dreamed
when dreams were like lightening
shared in the night
like the daguerrotypes 
I've held as heirlooms in the heart
souvenirs from expeditions
to the realms of galactic oasis
in places only dreams can reach
when I was renewed 
and you were my guide

and if you are the bringer 
of sweet celestial rains
then you must be the keeper
of the map to where 
the moon springs up with light
the cartographic remembrance
that the illusion is the illusion
that this could be mirage
and all the remembrance 
that I'll ever need to find
is to remember to taste
what lays already
on the tongue
that the reality I am prisoner to
is only the gravity 
of my own paradigms 
and linear definitions

and if I can taste my way back through
the secrets of the paths 
that you have shared 
to the liquid sanctuaries
hidden among the stars
then perhaps one day I will know
what it is to be the bringer 
of the rains of ancient loves
to fill the deepest wells
that nourish the quencher
of these dreams
with sacred dreams
to place upon your tongue

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