I dream of you
in the moan of violins,
in the waltz of bows and chords,
in silken strings of angels
whispering at my ear,
in the ripe fruit of clarity
rolling down my face.
I dream of you
in the deepest gorges of bloom,
in hummingbirds bending
their long curved beaks to drink.
I dream of you
in the colours of spring,
in cotton-cloud blossoms
unfolding white
against the softness of my rest.
I dream of you in diamonds,
in the Mountain of Light,
in the Sea of Light.
You pour through rains of chandeliers,
and walk across the bridges
of double rainbows.
I dream of you
in the eyes of eagles,
in the roots that spiral inward,
in the branching grace of antlers.
I dream of you
in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
You burn in the poems of Elward,
in the fire of Zarathustra,
in the flaming wings
that moths surrender at the gates of departure.
I dream of you
in the veins of vines,
in the dark heart of my goblet.
I dream of you
in the blood of heroes,
in the blood of roses
scattered on the cobblestones of gods.
I dream of you
in purple dragonflies
sitting on yellow daisies,
resting like living jewels
on the petals of daybreak.
I dream of you,
for this world is nothing
but you:
the dream of you.
