White rain streaks across the black rocks,
A soft palm wipes the hair from out of your eyes;
Red light immolates the room,
We are fun house mirror reflections of each other.
Unlikely, but undoubtedly, compatible.
The weight is released, and I place the laurel of muse, upon your head.
Driven like shadows, across the surface of the day,
We move in tandem with the light, but are not of it.
But, the warm caress of your affection,
It is a light, in and of itself.
The morning breeze is laughing
in your eyes I see a field of shattered suns,
Bursting forth in their brilliance.
The maddening illusion of calm is broken,
By the raging fever laboring inside me.
Engulfing my will, and burning my resistance to the ground,
Until every canvas that I capture, and claim in your name,
Bears an Image of you, and me just the same.