In the well of understanding

In the well of understanding

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Running in the Patient Morning Hours




In the stillness of your breath,
under the crepe silk of your jet skin
my solitude is met in its quest:
when I would ask less of myself -
when I would allow fear to strand me
on the barren marl of grainy doubt -
your tranquil susurrations minister
to the lime-strewn valves of my heart
and the sweat-streaked muscles exerting,
"Keep moving, Son of Eve"
And just as I crest over the apex,
beginning the descent towards the glint
of the incipient dawn, of gilded transit,
your chill-tinged arms embrace my dream,
more than a friend, more than a lover,
quelling disquiet, returning me once more
to the choice of possibilities
and the boundless expanse of all that is

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