Saturday, May 16, 2009

The moon rose.
I dream of you across the miles.
Still awake?

I hope you think of me,
and smile.

Here's a vision...
Tired bodies reach for comfort,
healing touch,
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?

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