midnight machinations pulled her into

my sphere

where Life spelt hope with thoughts, maybe dreams,

grandiose yet filling, abounding, swarming;

she filled the cup of want on levels too many,

words of ideas spewed forth, a biblical deluge

gurgling from a well-spring dry before that midnight

 

intertwined in physical communion

explosions to dwarf Pompeii

soul’s alleviated beyond the veil

bodies new, fertile

discovering without direction

the night watched, the night knew

celestial gratification.

 

after the fall: the well seems dry

bone dry, Gobi, Simpson, Arizona, barren

yet rain falls, drops of life, fuel;

alone, isolated, content

that muse, she has left, riding smoke shadows on the breeze;

she is gone and I am here

and I kept it,

that thing she helped me find.

 

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