All of my troubled lives have I taken leave
Of all that I ever thought you could be?
Without seeing you or knowing you
And often at the very idea of you,
I suffered a bidding of something I could never know.
As if I had long ago bid you adieu.

That time, time was my heart suffering
At some strange and dismal crisis.
My mind, body and soul were to be as separate beings
Which somehow seemed to be less than nothing
Until I passed that tremendous moment.
My love - your love - they were both in different worlds,
One where I would give anything to go after them or
Even hear of an account of them.

Time was what life could never be.

The reality of those words working softly over me
Like one day does blend into the next until
Returning blurred through some imagined memory.
All of my lives, have I really taken my leave of thee?
I always knew everything that I thought you would be.
But I see you and now I have
More than just the mere idea of you.

Oh but at least I no longer suffer at something I never knew.
So now I pray Lord, with the windows open tonight,

I beg of you

Paint me on the outgoing gentle breeze.
Let me know this love I need.
Let me be the warmness in the air that you breathe.
Let me drift through your open window
Softly blowing the sheer curtains over you.

Oh to be that sweet caress,
Sensual and soft upon your skin.
Your bed becoming a cloud
Cradling you in the misty waters of warmth.
Let it graze lightly upon your body
Like the tip of a painter's brush.

Let yourself feel my love with every movement,
Designed for your pleasure.
Let me hear you beg to be fully painted.
Let all of our art take its intended form.
Dipping again into the warm paint
Withdrawing slowly, ever so slowly
To feel the paint take hold.
Admiring our beautiful work,

Whatever it is that we create.

Within our artistic release
The hottest colors of passion
Pouring from within us
With each brush stroke erupting
So smoothly until
Even the brush shudders.
The immense sensations born on the wind.
Listen now, can you hear me?
Can you feel me?
I’m right here.
Painted on the breeze.