bridge over the sparkling river,
our linked arms an ethereal conduit
for the spirit of night-time
thrum of our little hearts,
accepted by the sparkling river
heard in the gurgling of its stream.
*** me in a corner pocket burrow of your delusions.
Take me to that unlit file cabinet room.
Hold still when I strip you of unnecessary illusion,
Purge you of lies in light from the moon.
I only go around in circles,
but how is that my fault?
You're my star, you pull me
Into orbit by default.
Doubt hung for a fleeting moment,
then you dragged me under the waterline.
Never to come up for air again,
Your hand never leaving mine.
What if the Moon
was the second sun?
who couldn't be brighter,
who could not give life,
one who was devoid of love
and decided eventually to float alone
only to attract the oceans
and see the people
sigh over love
dust from the all the worlds,
a scarf knitted by a mistress from somewhere,
jar of wine that makes you forget the past,
thirst for the lands unseen,
this was all
what the nomad ever carried.
scriptures from all of the worlds
a letter written in some undecipherable language,
potion that makes you drown in dreams,
curiosity of meeting people never seen,
this was all
what the wise ever amassed.
they never traded stories
they traded in worlds.
Optic caper, my eyes and you
flecks of rust, hues of rue.
Sanity's a privilege of the cruel
privilege that I often lose
with you in my field of view.