on whims and foolish things

were I to distill my thoughts of late
I dare say I could pour them all
quite completely
into a kiss
then I could taste
the mediterranean
and its ancient fruit
all awash about your body
essential oil
upon my lips

yet truth be told
I could do so much more
than this
in the twilight of my waking hours
when my strength begins to crash
and it recedes to little more than a trickle
my inner world awakens
my dreams they come alive
and I am once again a man
of metaphoric means

and you, whose gaze I cannot even hold
who has me staring at my boots
and standing on my tongue
you become the spark
that ignites and illuminates my world
where I no longer have to sequester my desire
where shyness loses its grasp
where at last I can reach out
with brush in hand
and make black the golden sun
pushing it headlong
into the oncoming night
while I sit with you
and wax lyrical on its demise
on whims and foolish things
on how we might commandeer
a dragonfly
a machine for us to fly
to soar high into the night
way above the land
towards the stars
and higher still
to the briefest moment
where the night could never be more beautiful
where the stars burn tiny fragments of their souls
where the earth is but a child in slumber
and gravity forgets itself
where darkness is heaven
and we are angels
silhouetted by the moon

then all at once
before we catch our breaths
we start to tumble
head over heels
into a twisting tailspin
plummeting through the ice crystals
of the frozen sky
into the majesty of the night
into the gravitas of life
into the rising and the falling
upon the most exquisite making of a dawn
breaching the horizon
tearing back a corner of my soul
revealing all that glitters
neath the gilded morning sun
is nothing

but a dream I shared with you