The unblemished raw of this naked earth,
The deep of her velvet, black blanket skies,
The sun christening the moon with her worth,
A floral field of dancing butterflies.
Forked light, like spirits from a mountain’s death,
Distant rains melting into rainbow dyes,
The scorching heat of a noon summer’s breath,
Lost somewhere out amongst the ocean’s sighs.
Beauty is but a thought, not ours to own,
Down-vision into one’s soul will reveal,
Magnetic allure beneath skin and bone,
Struggles left undefined by what we feel.
Your absolute raw, or so it would seem,
Plays as the nightly center to my dream.
