My heart expands, reaching further, as if to chase you, grasping for your tender presence, even though
you have not gone from me
.
You are resting under me, I listen to the steady thump
beating deep.
I see an ox in yellow light, plow a field
. You, in all your strength,
I shatter against
, and you, in all mine, wilt like a flower.
We sink into an undying, silent communication
.
I rest on you, my own hearth, scorching away every fault,
until I am more myself
, until I am something better,
shaped by your
approving forgiveness and blissful admiration.
Tell me, am I not perfect because of you?
Is it not in your eyes what I behold?
Have you not made me to fall in love again, every day.
Because you love me, I want for nothing.
My perfect life- a gift, not I,
more him,
corralling perfection into being by a choice,
a piece of magic,
a creation of knowledge and acceptance because hope never dies,
and love is a creature in itself.
Your heartbeat is still the same, steady, regular as a horse trot, unlike mine, fluttering and beating irregularly,
warm as the sun, solar flares and all.
I see a quiet cottage,
I see the forests and night sky.
I see a poor man and his happiness raises the dead.
Scarcely can I breath,
for wanting to give you anything-
a hot meal, a cup of water, a pillow to rest your head.
There is no invisible heart, just a beating one, under my ear,
and I feel just how much it pumps through my soul.
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