a daylight dream

The first thing I’d think about upon waking is the kind of good morning you’d love to hear, or perhaps the possibilities of a conversation soaked in morning light, a visit to the garden where we sat in reverence and dug the dirt out for love.   But now, there’s nothing of that anymore. Yesterday was liberating, I’d felt I was made for His love alone. Yet, today, the empty space is getting clearer, and there’s this side of me that wants to run to you, hold your hand and dream of meeting you again. There’s this heart beating for you, my love. Now, it’s floating away towards divine skies. It feels like my heart has died, dear one. I’m mostly asleep all day— and even when I’m taken to shores where love is to be shared, I find this numbness, this grace, this unpredictable death of all yearning. I talked to God while I stared at the mist and saw how I was meant to never drop His gaze. We made out of this garden a heaven, love. How can I come close without dropping, even you, away.

  I’m saying goodbye now, dear one. perhaps the last goodbye before the one foreordained by God. somehow, the shape of you, your light, keeps me tied. your opal eyes. a gateway to a divine oneness which I cannot break into without a heart that is magnetised for you, love. what is the point in love when there is all this pain in the expectancy of that one truthful goodbye? and I die each day, my heart taken away for some sleep to keep myself from all distraction. but when there is you, I can’t drop your gaze when I need to. and there is no point in loving you while asleep. there is no point in never feeling at home. my soul lifts itself toward you, lies by your side as you sleep this morning. the music in me holds your hand, and here we can dance our dreams away. I’ll see you— your truth. nothing else.