Grab the light switch, and flick it up. . .
and down. . .
up and down. . .
and again.
Those were the days and nights pushing past our eyes. . .
before we met.
That was the lifetime which shaped us,
the life of time, before we met. . .
before the world learned to stand still
as a hummingbird's last wingbeat. . .
a bubbling brook's meditation on joy,
that flowed up the gates within us,
past the watchful third eye,
on to the white crown. . .
the ecstasy of that buzzing moment
before the first morning kiss. . .
the sensation
of both our lips
reaching like a dawn. . .
hungry for the stars
and the rose hued bliss
that follows
when we feast
No comments:
Post a Comment