I Am the World To Your Dream

I am the world to your dream.
You are my sorrow and my song.
You ride the shaman’s conjured wind.
I am a lover’s net.
I catch your butterfly notes
and drink them all like moon’s milk.
How I love you! I bend your smile
over rustling treetops, and in your dawn
dreams the longing of nesting sparrows.

You are the blue mountain of all my fevered thoughts.
How I love you! Our souls like vines
entwine the virgin’s oak,
born not from yesterday or the morrow,
and in its primeval marrow
flows a gilded honeydew wrought from the flames of love
and passion’s fire.

You set my trammels free
and cut my clutching veins
and drips my naked blood
into your body’s vessel.

You transmute all my mute transgressions
into green emeralds and gold.

Your face ripples in the ebon offing.
My outstretched fingers,
stretched beyond miles mortal
fan your form angelic

and whole again I’m born.

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