Hold me. Hold me closer, until our bodies merge and our imaginations share their dreams like one mind. Dancing, swaying in the moonlight, we are lost together on the inky sands of the night-swept shore. Our fingers interlacing, skin to skin.

A river, carrying all water drops to the ocean, breathes a sigh of relief as she opens into the wide expanse of water, where all memories of her journey are lost. A vastness that envelops all fears and soothes them like a mother murmuring to her child.
Please hold me. I can’t lose You. You are too precious to me. You are me. Your love binds me to this reality – this world of shapes and colours; this dreamscape of signs and walkways.

In the leafy, shaded garden, seated on a grassy mound, a wise saint sits in stillness contemplating the elusive depths within. With such fearless determination he sits, as wind and rain beat his body. Only his chest moving as he breathes the life force into his cells.

I’m listening. Listening for stories in the whisper of the leaves in the breeze. What words can be woven from this web that surrounds me?
Ivy, watering can. Cobwebbed greek figure of grey plaster, flecked with green lichen and dry litter of autumn leaves. Yellow flowers for which I can’t find words to describe. Their petals like thin shavings of butter soaked in sunlight.

I want to write and write and write.
Unfurl words,
curled like new ferns
inside me.

It is almost painful.
A joyful, beautiful pain
that breathes in
in-formation
through my senses.

Finally.
To pick up a pencil and
release, release.
Into this compact notebook
that promises to carry my dreams
on a sailboat into the night.

Oh, I just want to let them flow out
like rainwaters along the edges
of paved streets.
Flow out and trickle
into ears and eyes
and open like flowers
in moist mouths.

Moist mouths that kiss and whisper,
and relish shapes
of poetry.