These currents

Twice, we lay 

Once under roof,

Once under star-skies,

Needing no cotton to cover us,

For your wings, now white-silk

Covered us both,

And had unfolded again.

 

You, who knows only now,

Yet whose flight spans an aeon

And a hundred-million more,

As if Eternity were but a playful second’s breath,

You see, not mirages,

But the shimmer of water,

Real as it cascades over your skin,

From tears, wetted lips, and the clear-cool

Drink of Love’s faery-flow.

 

Swim once more, along those wind-paths

You made, Where air is as water,

And possibility rushes to meet the present,

From Future’s crystal call.

 

There’s no history in these currents,

That do not cry out to be embraced

With your wonderful gaze of wanting;

Your fingertips are touching once again,

And the air is alive with spirit-electric life,

Just one naughty glint in your eyes will

Once more remake the world.

Take this offered hand.

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