Saturday, May 16, 2009
The moon rose.
I dream of you across the miles.
I hope you think of me,
Here's a vision...
Tired bodies reach for comfort,
someone who knows where it goes.
In the dark,
hands follow familiar paths,
needing no light to be cast.
From deep wells in fatigued souls,
a lucid river of restoration flows,
a confluence of tributaries,
wholeness, rain to ocean marries
two, remain two, are one sharing, healing,
without seeing, only feeling.
Dream of me as you
lie in bed across the miles.
I want to flow.
Does that make you smile?