Don’t tell me of your promises that are locked between your own dwelling place of mischief lost and fortunes untold. Your mystery is not my mystery, and I am not whom you claim me to be.
Don’t tell me of your view of the situation, how it will transpire, what you feel and think and believe of the circumstance. You know nothing more than the shadow before you. The reflection of self you proclaim to be this me you no longer adore.
I am the shadow maker’s fierce guard, the one who protects by proclaiming the guise false. I am the warrior torn through again with sword of blood of ages. I bleed for you and you alone and trample on the visions you proclaim as the truth of us.
I am the mistress come up from the depths of the earth, the bowels uplifted in my crying hands, seized and pulsating in their own disbelief of light. Please me not with your hopes and dreams, the sleeper trapped in her merry land of nonsense. Please me with your soul, taken asunder and back again through the filth of lies you’ve gathered, like a victim with a basket of holes, relifting what is not there to fill up what is naught.
I slide between the creases of our destiny and play the tune of All. I know you. I smell you. I sense you. I see you naught through the ways you think. For my knowing is transcendent beyond the scope of singular. Mine is the eyes of Thine, divided less each moment you breathe, and brought through myself again and again, each hour you sleep. Arise and come with me, fair maiden of my beckoning. For you are the very ache of me. The substance that moves within and scrapes at my insides—you. The longing that makes the completion quiver—you. The whispers in the night hour of sweet nothings, of sweet everything, of desire, of final coming. You.
Oh how I adore thee, with your lips puckered in submission dreaming like the lost lover never found.
Oh how I come to you in the times we both slumber and dance in your silhouette longing to awaken both dreamers with my kisses.
You are such purity and joy, such revelation and light, the simmering ripples on the lake of me.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
And with my last echo, my last waking hour, my last desperate haunting voice, I shall call out your name in remembrance, and dance as empty shell undone; until the last day, when you return to me whole, and our union once granted shall spark the stars of each and every night. Until so bright, the each of one blends into the All of All, and we drift, as the dandelion reborn into the sky of skies, entangled as the insects with wings, our love rewound, back to the start, when you and I were forever one.