Trajectories

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At last we arrive
At this sweet release.
Some place where
A dark room
Is lit with a kiss.
Secretly, a smoked whisper
Passes from warmed lips
To a yearning ear.
That this is the end
Of an unwanted year,
A conceptual turn-table
And you spin.
Like I spin,
Or at least my head does
At the thought of a singular
Moment iced from top to bottom
And kept like a trophy
On memory shelves.
This is our memory.
Of waking up at some
New found dawn.
Yeah, and a dog barks.
Gold sparkles
Off the water,
And you realize
This is where it was.
Right here,
Right now.
But that was then.
And this is something
After then.
Now it’s a blown lamp
And layers of blankets
Piled over our separated bodies.
The pace of a heart,
The lift of air to the lungs.
A shot of whiskey
And a blow to the head.
Slow-motion refrain.
Someone lifts the shade
And we take one for the moon.
Or give one for the moon.
Since we exchange with each other
It hardly makes a difference.
Breathtaking landscapes
Woven by
Our possible trajectory.
Fate is a drunk-driver
Who picks us up
At the corner of where and when
And drives us blindly
Through space.
And so deliver me from this evil.
And though I walk through the
Valley in the shadow of failure,
I shall not give up.
Love is my shepard,
It restores my soul.
It guides me in paths of happiness.
I will fear nothing.
For you are with me,
Your eyes and your hands;
They comfort me.
Where we are is
Where no one else is.
At least allow
For this fantastical journey
Through an imaginary hope.
For blessed is the man who
Trusts in Love and has made
Love his hope and confidence.
And though my soul rests in love alone,
My salvation comes from you.





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