This Broken Earth

Nothing is ever round, or flat, or plumb:
I see now in trueness, that love is blind
Whether two are joined together in a blossoming romance,
Or merely just a fetish and immeasurable desire for pleasure.
I cannot see or smell the freshness of the greenest leaf nor life’s earnest beauty
Whether it is my inability to smell or see, I will fault it on love
I have neither the heart to stop nor the intent
My dreams and visions have become but a reverie all for an utterly made creature
For oh, my love is born of one dream divine,
Sandwiched in the beating amazement of my intellection.
Last night I dreamed her face, and I almost saw it
I know nothing else but her and the scent she wears
The thing we share, is what the vast creation craves, the joining of our lives for eternity
And only at the touch of my lips on her face, is when the trumpet shall sound.
The only sounds I know are the sounds of her gasping as though asking for air,
And of her groaning and squirming whilst honey flowed from the parted pot along my fing’rs
And the sound of her heart beating faster and faster as I breathed on her triangle of hair
And a feeling of peace in the warmth of the sea like transferring my life into her and taking over hers.

It is true, love is fire, and food and wine
For I feel this surging billowing heat inside of me when I think of her
And an insatiable hunger and unquenchable thirst and lust
It is like, when I am alone, I want nothing less than her.
It is like the world is on fire, and no one can save me but her
Oh, this feeling.

Tell me how life can be prolonged
Tell me how to become immortal, so I can spend eternity with my precious love
Or assure me that there is life in death.
If I must die, bury me then, with a painting of her, so I will not forget the love we shared
I have walked, I have trusted with open eyes
I have seen all there is to see, but I do no more
All because of a simple word that was whispered to me by a daft musical voice
I have plunged my head deep in the moving depths of desire and intimacy
So, if I must die, let me die with her
But if I must wake from this dream,
Tell the room service I did not mean to.