Iridescence

I meet you in a globule
beyond worlds – beyond perception – beyond body
and mind

I meet you there
in our melodic silence
inside an uncollapsible sphere
to continually refract our
illuminating plain light
and reflect
along the perpetually
manifesting membrane
of our ever evolving  
ever changing
color codes

when we imagine we make love
endless coordinate points join
to sculpt this dream
it is visible along this subtle interface
as the fugitive perpetual color
of true love

I come here and see you just
inside the divinity made by us

you and I on a brow we are
beyond the eyes we shall always meet
as the complementary formula
evenly made anew by you and I
and  here we have always been
axiomatically you are I

so let’s forget and return to our lives again
on this plane we shall write the experience
peacefully apart  in each other’s presence
to gravitate and untouchably reshape  
our garments which shall be dropped someday
not as a fate

in the hub of this supreme orb
made of the sound of our eternal peak
we are as if two separate selves
trails of my illusory dance
shape all your dream girls
until that all fades
like in the true blue of the sky
all in one I am now for you

and you

you do for each of I
as if you are
you …you …you

of all and with whom
I am in love

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and it rained

She shaped as she
on top of that one mountain
carrying all waters of the world
with one of her infinite hands
on top of her head
under that night sky
an offering she was or it
to the moon

the carrier of half moon a copper plate
the lover the moon a reflection of herself
inspiring beauty as a shine
she could reach to the non condensed matter
of a planet where you and I come from
pure light of our home to refract the unseen
that could travel as fast as love
to awaken the rainbow
of our combined heart
a rainbow that could appear
on the world after rain

Rain was her true name
she meditated as her name
for you
as you wished for her
to inspire the smells of condensed fume
she evaporated under that moon

Next day
I guess on a Sunday
one day after a sunny bright cool day
I woke up
not opening my eyes
I knew
the sun would be behind the clouds
I knew unmoving how air felt
I did not know why
until questioning stopped
until my choice of unacceptance of
what is –
what I am –
what I created to be for that day –
gave up
for that was not an affordable weight
morning called instead
maybe a gift the greens said
as they got deeper darker in their greenness
to be praised by the clouds
settled as if they have always been  on these skies
they always do so arrogant
it’s their nature I say
they are as is required to be
I did not mind
and
it rained

and
it rained
and rained
and rained
and I knew
I was awake
and I knew
I rained
and rained
and rained
I rained
for you

*thyme bread*

I am sitting here with you
sipping a cup of coffee alone
how interesting to save energy and space like that
using one body what used to be just mine.

how contemplative peaceful aware and full of wisdom we are  together
as I could be on my own before my fall
a fall –  a period  
equivalent to  intervals of states of innocence
after the fetal  and before the restored one.

communicative is the body in creative balance
walking on a line of  harmony
beyond a metropolitan valley
because it can afford derived fun
so to create surroundings by dance  
so to create matter.

speaking under the dimness of a warm bright yellow kitchen light
its morning with you now alone
I made a thyme bread for us not to eat if you don’t want to but to awaken divination
the suggestion of taste by smell
the act of cooking
to trigger a required natural physical reaction
imagine.

I serve it beside the coffee as dry bread
maybe not for us but for the birds outside
as if it matters: the I –  the you or the birds
one sips – the other beaks
and the rays of universe weave

that’s all about it I guess

this way we broadcast our mute to us- never heard by us – laughter  through a November mist towards a galaxy  where families live and can receive ours’ as a synaesthesized pulse and can learn from – the way to become happy not like us but as a cause of ours’

Lucine*

That dark patterned line
crossing straight the moon,
centering the frozen sphere-gate
of a misty autumn night-sky,
is not a cloud to sink down on only
and float subtly for a while
< so I can feel the aura of your skin mixing with the mine >
but it is also a five line staff
and tells me an aurally perceived absolute secret so that ,
through my hearing ,
you will
rise,
glide,
twirl
and cross
other lines,
tune my gaze
and engrave a mystic score beyond your shine,
plant each of  ‘you’s,
note by note,
in ones, halves, fourths, eighths , sixteenths and ‘pi’s
in the heart of each
<beyond the clouds away from my reach>
twinkling star

so that anyone that could look up with a heart,
<maybe on a clear night sky>
would see a commencing song-
singing the dance of an ever weaving light-story
visible to those eyes with a knowing only that
<the knowing about a wish is
a wish that shall eternally be kept a secret>
has the enlightening technology to recreate a reflecting galaxy
with an authentic memory
that expands infinitesimally
<which we in our terms would say it expands by love
but in truth would not really know how
unless the terms are lost and we have got no time except to  > – be now-
be now
be now with me now
and now and only now
be now and with me now
and only now and now

Would you come and meet me then?
there?
but I don’t know where… just there?
wherever all these sky lookers are
and be one of them, again ?  as we did once– on a terrace
one summer night, we watched our own story under stars,  among crowds while I asked for your light and you kissed me awake for eternity and so
would you let me kiss you this time – one more time
just for the last time  and forget that eternity  eternally this time?

Silver Moon*

I live alone
in a room
my only friend
a rock plant.


A vase made of sighs,
converts sexy non-audible AIs
to an unknown hymn,
replaces a half broken arm.

or was that a dream
during a harvest time?
or was that a gift
from a dear one?

I live alone
beside a window under skies
in a vase
made of colorful spots
my only friend
a girl
meditates in the room somewhere.

She, my sole flower
is a shape of a pink heart.
Her subtle transparent edge
glows my petal of gleam,
filters a beam,
and makes a rainbow kite.

My leaves, center her single dream,
carry a code of a parabolic green.

At dawn, she sings a love song,
invites all the blues of skies.
At dusk, she migrates them towards tones of nights.
A dot sinks within the brightests of stars
and finally
into my heart of hearts.

She collects then pure droplets
from a precipitating river – crossing unknown realms
in which of each
every season
a silver moon blossoms
to reflect a blue-green star,
she ultimately waits for:

‘That one!’ she shouts
deepening her pinks,
beating rapidly,
shaking my photosynthetic organs
‘There… we come from!
from the dancing, shapeshifter one!’

She, my only friend is a dreamer for none.
A dream of dreams about an unknown realm.
A girl with big words,
‘Someday’ she says ‘Someday,
when we be one as a timeless time but
I hold a key of Now from you for now
as much as I am of you,
Love will be a technology then for all – as is
then we be of love and One’.

‘but for now’ I say ‘for now’
‘at least, be my only one’
and I dream…
dream about a shape of the moment of that very someday
when she finally understands
and ‘yes that blessed someday’ I say,
and as usual nod and tune my stem.