poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

The shape of you
Is that how you are? a sleepy little dragon, warm in my bed, purring softly and dreaming of the rest of forever? Is it that the shape of you I see, tearful child, crouched in a corner, protecting an inner core forged in punishment and hardship, unable to forgive injurious gender -- an unfit recipient of new love? What is the shape of you that I recognise obscured by the strain of life's difficulties hid behind the varnish of charming bravado the obdurate independence (once your survival) that shuts ears, hands and heart from me denying me touch, sense, truth? Is that how you are? stiff as a board, unapproachable staring at me furiously through the smoke that flushes out flaring nostrils -- the warning of raging fire inside that would incinerate me? What are you that fascinates with two faces the one from the northern island mysterious, dark and vulnerable the other from the beautiful island invulnerable, inviolate, uncompromising? What shape sustains your countenance that a thousands masks you may wear each of which I recognise in our intimacy? Or is it ten thousand, the balance of which I have yet to discover? What is the shape of you my love that holds the keys to my heaven the hopes of my fulfillment the promise of long-awaited demise? [27-XI-08]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
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