The dreamers eyes touch me
soothing my own tired
blood sodden, sorrow filled orbs
twinges of hope
intermingled with fear
comfort as well though,
an inner knowing that these
puncturing needles are never
seeking the perfect answer.
providing, with eyes unclouded.
for days on end
laying naked upon the deck of a craft
built, by the sheer will of our inner mothers knowing,
in the middle of a vast
gently swaying sea
the sweet smell of salt
the cry of the gulls circling overhead.
how do you do it?
wrenching I like a weed
from my noose-like nest,
my perch atop the spire of death,
delicately curling talons around my trunk,
delivering me to the doorstep of my hearts
momentarily forgoten desire.
quenching the thirst of a million previous Is.
Revealing, in an instant
the meaning of my inexhaustible toil,
grooming my white crystaline skin,
the tip of your angelic tongue,
a welcome break
in the storm clouds
that have become my mind.