Murmuration

I know but cannot prove that something was exchanged...

something in the synaptic theater that lives behind or in spite of, my eyes.

something summarized as one perfect night imagined in bed sheets 

heavy with incense and sunshine, 

and the dampness that comes from filling my hands with my emptiness.

one perfect night of belonging. imagined bliss. eternity.

of knowing that you were born with the scent of me stored deep

inside your primal brain.

I recognize your fingers... I've felt the waves of potentiality rippling 

out from them, catching me in the spatial riptide and pulling me to you...

nearer in time, nearest in intent...

I can hear the hum of current that passes between us... 

every time your thoughts return to me, I am there waiting...

you think of others, but your thoughts return to me.

The song you have always sung is on my lips.

Some of our light is trapped under my sheet

Some of our light escapes and the way is lit,

waiting to snap into focus when the harmonics are just right.

I become quiet in the darkness of my bedroom, and open to feel you.

You are always right there with me.

I listen deeper and join with your breathing

I know but cannot prove that we are already together

The scent held in the folds of your neck,

pungent like sea roses

and of your breath, coming up from your belly core.

sweet and nutty, 

feels and breathes like soft dirt home,

where my shell broke open and all of me uncoils 

around us both like vines of wild grape and bittersweet

I know but cannot prove that we are part of a whole murmuration 

we move and weave

soar and dive, back and forth through the illusion of time.

I dreamed of us and we were. 

We are.

The dream is now a memory. and so it happened.

I know but I cannot prove it.

KLM ~