Friday, April 14, 2017

Unraveling

Show me
your most private places,

where you dream
and where
the unfinished surfaces
of your soul
await your touch.

Loosed from these bodies,
we can float and dance
like the essences we are,
light and graceful
as smoke
snaking upward
to Heaven.

I am not what I seem.
None of us are.

Each one is
part-mystery
and part-illusion
to the other.

Let’s spend
the rest of our lives
unraveling
each other,

until
there is no you
and no me,
only us.

2 comments:

  1. I love, 'the unfinished surfaces of yout soul.' What an enchanting poem, B.

    ReplyDelete
  2. this is a beautiful love poem, Mosk ~

    ReplyDelete