Only he new Her love…
He charted Her sassy, dicey flawed
and linked dots between partitioning planes
of Her brazen startling thunders
coloring hues of her dotty rumbles
that echoed over the vastness of the rebellious sky.
He surrendered to Her headiness to channel
the lost parts of his spirited regions
once puffed out from a diagram rim
of a far, ignored dream
under a golden patina of his life.
He met Her on that very point
of his locked in
minute to minute business meetings
calculated career
an each time he decided to reach Her
a new crisis rolled-in
tessellating the space
in a tighter and tighter convex hulls
of a dissonant far-off symmetry.
At every emergency meeting
he drank that served glass of water
and, then, chewed ice-cubes between teeth
until he felt the burning pain
in stillness
screaming to the face
of a tragic silence…
Late at night he dreamed
about Her;
she swam on waves’ flipping edges
with the sea shells
and trumpeted through the conch
piercing sounds
to awake empty shores
he never dared to enjoy;
So many nights they walked
cracking beneath feet
the apparent exponent distance,
until the first ray
swept the plane’s beachline
sealed the dawn
with dewy, rainbow circle event warbles
leaving Her ghastly palm print
on his half-open bedroom window…
Ever after
he stared at the same half-empty morning glass
until he pulled from the inner suit pocket
One of the universals,
stick with a moral law,
that striking, burning light
to siege the swarm of a blazing, hidden, fight
dueling moral spherical dilemmas.
One late night, he missed Her
awoke, and heard someone,
in his shadow reciting once dreamed Fortune,
“Again, shattered is the immortal night;
an unborn of the future and dead of the past
 out of tune the broken lyre of time’s arrow rhyme.
Liquid sky leaks heavy waters in white.
I dream in a pitch dark dome her shine,
we’re now woven in a golden flower of a love rite,
reciting salutations to the new Earth’s rising sun”

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