Drifting through alacrity,
I will myself to move.
For the thoughts racing throughout me will not let me be, will not let me rest.
No amount of words could pull a goddess from the sky,
Other delicacies to catch her wandering eye;
Upon her throne, looking out upon heavenly objects.
—I but dwell upon Earth.
And if I, the lover of ideas, the prismatic prisoner of cognitions in my mind could thrust some breathtaking gem of a cosmic rarity to gift her, where shall I go from there?
What is the fascination of love in its obscurity?
Its what ifs and perhapses,
And perhaps even its definites.
For what follows the intensity of yearning so deeply is fear; hidden by the mask of jeweled and flowered frames, casting smoke upon the worry of un-obtanium, the flutter of the heart at first experiences.
— I have never wanted this more.
Should this master of disguises be the face of my maker, the inviting Venus Fly Trap waiting to devour me, I feel that the discontentment with my own presence forces me to such a welcoming predator.
— Make me disappear.
One so willing to be stripped and devoured until nothing but marrow to suckle before her, begging the universe to know me:
Could the stars contain my intricacies?
Could I reassemble to meet the steady gaze; the catalyst for my restlessness; the instigator of my long numb and suppressed emotions?
And when her awareness finally attaches to mine, will I fuse with galactic webs and journeys of the self; spinning so wildly I solidify into a planetary mass, unstable core bursting me across the universe, spraying upon rings, comets, and gravity itself.
Will she dare look upon me?
Do I dare reveal such things?
“She took my breath and took my heart,
She’ll make my death a work of art.”
Where do I begin?
Staring out the window of my mind, I watch myself detached from all in the most basic and exposed form of separation.
I feel the unrest swell within me, hands twitching in the ache of inactivity.
No, not in the wake of such a wave; ocean ready to drown me in its monstrosity of mysterious depths, all manner of creatures waiting to marvel at a creature foreign as they.
I cannot sleep,
For all such things follow me in dreams.
The echoing laugh, the wisps of hair from the corner of my vision.
Where is it that you go?
If all is felt within the mind, then down to the realm of the flesh, the symbol of the mind, the very synapses that fire in the imitation of life send waves of you throughout the rest of me, making my body a chasm of wonder to behold within.
— Dwell here with me.
I wander and, oh, how I wonder if the obvious is written upon my expression.
If the world were to peel back the security of misguided demeanor and intentions, would they discover you?
A mass of clouds pregnant with spring condensation, waiting to rain upon specks below becomes a metaphor.
Held in retention until the wisp-like walls cannot withhold such contents any longer, the drops descend closer to the surface it shall embrace, both longing for the touch of one another.
And as the two become intimate, nourishment to one, purpose for the other, the water glides off a leaf, hanging heavy with the traveling vessel.
The remains soak deeply into the earth; roots stand ready, reaching to take in its essence.
My love is as this rain, ready to overcome insurmountable distance and soak into the very fibers which compose you; rinsed and renewed, carried away in the presence of one another.
— You absolve me.