Beneath Golden-Laced Clouds

By
Atop that everlasting spire,
Reserved for gods and stars they make;
We’d hold, hand in hand, a fit of stubborn desire,
Shout to the minstrels our affirmed mistake,
‘til our mortal wounds doth quench the fire
And lay our souls in the resounding quake
Of the eternal flames that lit our conjoined pyre;
To lie forever in each other’s arms; awake.

And I’d sooner die – eyes open – with thy bleeding heart,
Floating harmlessly in rhythm next to mine;
Than live beneath the golden-laced clouds apart:
Because ever so faintly they’d see, our spirits intertwined
As if to say ‘life’ is merely the start,
Love is omniscient; love is divine.
Love is, and for no more than that I’d gladly depart.

To see thy cosmic lips gracefully graze my own
I’d take one breath, and jump head first into the majestic unknown.





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