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The Taste of Eternity


In my dreams I never sleep.

I never tire of the endless fire,

Never sway far from the winds

That turn ceaselessly 

The pages of my dreams.


Perhaps all has been written already,

And at night I return only to exist

In the pages of its inexhaustible volumes.


If I were mere ink upon a page,

A blackened permanence,

I only hope the words I’ve worn

To have brightened the spirit

Of some lonely wanderer –

To have lodged 

In the machinery of their mind,

Birthing a silent void

Wherein Beauty parted their every illusion.


Upon wakefulness love will rest eternally perched,

And receding to dream will no longer seem a luxury.


In my dreams I’ve begun to sleep now,

For in wakefulness I have for the first time

Tasted eternity –

She kissed my mouth and whispered joy

Into every grain of my being.


The winds have died down now,

As I’ve earned the luxury of a dreamless sleep.

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