Here, before the shadow,

the caress of the wind in the silent night,

is measured by the breaths

of a fitful sleeper,

The years heap their withered hours,

Like leaves fallen in autumn, upon our decay,

and we dream a quiet madness in our day,

as we wander this Elysian isle,

between both the conscious and the fugue awhile.

And we two will walk together,

beneath this fitful, dreamy weather,

and wander on shorelines ere we ascend

to the edge, where the horizon bends,

and with the wind to drive our hearts

to crossroads where

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devils and angels part,

and wonder beneath this azure bliss,

of the faintest touch,

the zephyr's kiss.

And here with spirits bound together,

we dream upon the soul-graven shore,

forever lost in the ebb and flowing caress of the sea,

that trembles and glitters in

the Dreaming in susurrating ecstasy.

I stand upon that ghost-lit path

beneath the ephemeral glow of the pale moon,

in a garden of transient delight.

Our hands seek each other,

Till like two suns of ever-expanding flame,

The touch renders us one and the same,

Transfigured and mixed, chaotic, yet ever-still,

a dream embodied in resolute will

to nourish us in this quiet night

with hopes and dreams, burning bright,

One truth born within a soul bound

to two eclipsing minds,

and with it, life, death, heaven, hell,

eternity and annihilation.

You turn and smile at me,

and I know that tranquility

is more than this moment:

It is all creation,

bound in gentleness:

a dream of a kinder silence,

fleeting and forgotten in the night.