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.