I am adrift in shadow when parted from you

existing in a non-life and a non-death
caught between dominions of light and dark

my soul, disincarnate, hangs suspended
impaled upon the sundering hook of an obscene
numinous dismembering of the essence that is Us

twisting and battered in an enervating wind which
moans and wails like the wretched, suffering ******
filling a haunted and dissonant land with anguish
at the midpoint between rivened you and I

all aspects of me are halved, dissipated
I must survive with half a feebly beating heart
inhale for but one struggling lung, choked with ash
seeing only half the sky, half the world

My scattered thoughts incomplete and disordered
I drag myself, mauled and maimed, towards
the next transcendent moment of palpability in Us

Khronos, laughing, mocks all my efforts
drags the hours just beyond my numb fingers

I can only touch you if I reach inside of me

I have a desperate need
to be away from here
but if I cannot be with you
there is nowhere to go

I am formed to be yours
at the threshold of inception
we were molded together
bisected, to find rejoining

your every curve locks to me
as water flows to find its depth

my eyes are shaped
to see your face
my gaze is drawn to you
as the moon draws the tide

my lips are patterned
for your inimitable kiss
I can taste only you

my heart opens for your love alone

I am a bell tuned to a singular tone
reverberating with your voice
I resonate with the sound of your name

the key of your words
unlocks my undiscerning ears
that I may hear you
whisper to me of love

your scent perfumes my life
echoes of you in each fragrance

my fabric and yours interlaced
without seam or stitch
we fully encompass each
the other encircling

they said she was a dreamer
no clouds to veil her thoughts
a fantasy believer
her mind a maze of knots

she loved to live in make believe
talking to her porcelain kitty
thrilling stories she could weave
a pint-sized Walter Mitty

dreams can change as we grow
so it was for her
imagined prince became a beau
Oz became Big Sur

childhood fancies may pass away
with little pain or strife
but adult hopes, should they betray
can leave a wound for life

so many ways that dreams can die
some peaceful and humane
some burn out, or with a sigh
others outright slain

dreams can turn to nightmares
some live past their death
haunting those who called them theirs
once precious as each breath

but dreams can holy grace receive
and dreams can live again
hearts can heal, no longer grieve
and faith not be in vain

dreams can live on love alone
dreams shared grow stronger still
a dream fulfilled can be a home
or a castle on a hill

Tango on a tightrope
Argentine Cross vibrating the line
like the strings of a Latin guitar
playing our song
only a spider’s web for a net
if we fall

Waltz on a wall top thirty stories high
our story tops them all
traffic below doesn’t even see
top hat and tails, silk gown
cocktails in our hands
Fred and Ginger sit it out to watch

Rumba on a rope bridge
hips sway in time
with the windblown span
gliding past missing boards
waterfall below shouts up to us
can’t make out what it says

Paso Doble on a plane
faux bullfight on a wing
Matador and his scarlet cape
pose and sweep
turbulence tilts the dance floor
ten thousand feet to the ground

Quickstep in the quicksand
feet so light in rapid step
no time to sink
flow across the surface
to syncopated beats
shoes left stuck to the floor

steps we mastered long ago

now we glissade and sweep
only to the rhythm of us
most challenging of all dances
and most natural of movements
always in step
dancing on the edge of our hearts

I no longer measure time in minutes, hours, days
I now measure by with you or not with you

How do I go
When my absence melts you
How do I turn away
When I am immersed in you

What else can I see
If you are all my vision
What can draw my mind
If you are each thought

Are you truly alone
While you are surrounded by fears
Are you left without voice
While you scream in silence

Is there a limit to my rekindlings
As I extinguish with each last look
Is it possible to breathe
As lungs fill with endless calls to you

At what point could there be too much us
Though there is never enough
At what point is pain exhausted
Though the void of apart is limitless

Where is the end of empty
Can it be found when we are cleft
Where do we cease to touch
Can we be disjoined at any point

Why do we bleed with stilled hearts
Must away be bottomless
Will actuality ever come right
Do we survive, or die trying