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It was the way she could skip stones

It was the way she could skip stones
across the cool stillness of my mind.

It was the coy, liquid songs 
that spilled from her breath
and drenched my plethora 
of inbetween spaces.

It was the meticulous devotion 
with which she swept stray moonbeams
and stardust from the floor of the night sky.

It was how her smile spiraled like a wild galaxy
from a universe yet unborn.

It was the haunted sound of her wings beating 
in the dark expanses of my soul.

It was how he shamelessly drank of me.

How his unwavering eyes scattered my mind
across the corridors of time.

It was the way the fiery rays of his gaze
set my curvacious flesh ablaze 
like a howling moon.

And when i cry, he gathers my tears
and makes the sweetest honey.

Oh, and how he takes my complaints 
and purees them into a smooth, decadent soup.

It is the way we play, like two hawks circling
in infinitudes of blue.

Beloved, I want to joyously cry, you and I 
at each sunrise from now until the last salty drop
of time spills from her sacred eye.

Applaud the sun feverishly as he dips below the horizon
as if for the first time each night.  And then writhe and bask
in the psychodelic aftermath of colored puddles bleeding 
across the sky.

And when it's dark, let's fall apart in eachothers arms.

My Love, let's put all our small and ridiculously false beliefs
about ourselves and this Mystic Life in God's pipe
and share a HOLY SMOKE!

-DAGK

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