To be with you, I am limitless;
unbounded and removed
from a life of simplistic servitude –
becoming anything.
And we could run, without
looking backwards or sideways,
only forward, with a glance here and there
at one another,
ensuring a mutual want of all things,
of the purity in our unrivalled experience.
And when you look to the stars, I will see
only you;
when you dance to the beat of the music
I will follow my tempo within
accelerating faster than mortal can move,
and I will trip as I hasten to match
my motion to the rhythm.
If I fall, I am happy
to lay on the soft, sweet grass
or the relaxed sands, dreaming,
listening to the sweet cadence
of your voice, tired and joyous
as you whisper to the stars,
sparkling for them,
watching the sky drift its daily path
of saturation and change, wondering
if it all looks the same elsewhere.
Maybe, as they say, the Monaco Harbour
lends its hand to the painting of the sea;
perhaps the red lights of Amsterdam night
amplify the deepest blues
in the corners of the atmosphere,
and when they dance in Barcelona streets
they may feel a oneness with
the thing itself:
interconnected meaning,
and life
but it is not for me.
I need no landscape or light paths
or luscious lakes in names of places
I cannot pronounce,
for every colour is already deeper,
the waters already pure, and the sands
already sweet, and the grass plain,
and comfortable
when I am with you.
I need not the magic of cities so fine;
when I am with you, I feel you and me,
together in a world wondrously
divine.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 7:08 PM UTC
To be with you, I am limitless;
unbounded and removed
from a life of simplistic servitude –
becoming anything.
And we could run, without
looking backwards or sideways,
only forward, with a glance here and there
at one another,
ensuring a mutual want of all things,
of the purity in our unrivalled experience.
And when you look to the stars, I will see
only you;
when you dance to the beat of the music
I will follow my tempo within
accelerating faster than mortal can move,
and I will trip as I hasten to match
my motion to the rhythm.
If I fall, I am happy
to lay on the soft, sweet grass
or the relaxed sands, dreaming,
listening to the sweet cadence
of your voice, tired and joyous
as you whisper to the stars,
sparkling for them,
watching the sky drift its daily path
of saturation and change, wondering
if it all looks the same elsewhere.
Maybe, as they say, the Monaco Harbour
lends its hand to the painting of the sea;
perhaps the red lights of Amsterdam night
amplify the deepest blues
in the corners of the atmosphere,
and when they dance in Barcelona streets
they may feel a oneness with
the thing itself:
interconnected meaning,
and life
but it is not for me.
I need no landscape or light paths
or luscious lakes in names of places
I cannot pronounce,
for every colour is already deeper,
the waters already pure, and the sands
already sweet, and the grass plain,
and comfortable
when I am with you.
I need not the magic of cities so fine;
when I am with you, I feel you and me,
together in a world wondrously
divine.