A Desert Wind At Night

I am the Wind that blows at Night.
When You let your hair fall around me
And send the sun chasing,
I am uncaged.

As Time trickles away its sands
And his hourglass drip-drips away,
Let me be the gentle breeze
That detours Time's sway.

I will swirl us into a desert dune—
A timeless tune—
We will constantly push Time away.
Keeping Day forever at bay.

As You descend upon me,
I am the Wind that blows at Night;
For Night breeds this breeze
And the breeze feeds the Night.

It is ONLY in You that I am born.
And it is by me that you live eternal.

TORMENT—
It was not accessible
to either of us, my Love,
Like a cookie-jar jest in distant time
dancing a titillating m a z u r k a
We wished only to acquaint

KNOWING—
It shone upon us
My Reach and I
We cowered there in the light
Do you remember?
Arms around each other
Our ribs cradled in each others’ elbows
Rock-a-bye, baby
A thorax, is it? Or a fossa cubital?
A huddling unbecoming
And forearms soon numb
            against love’s heaving sighs?
A side in a nook, my Love,
Tightening grasps a chokehold now
Breath in tiny strained gasps,
            TINIER now
I forget, you chirp,
Love’s a boa constrictor
All and Mighty

SHADOW—
It we cast, a lengthy one.
A lonely one.
Longer now, my Love, as Knowing waned
And we were less We than
            we even know—
Entwined so resolutely
            around each other
Knowing no solace, but
this Knowing too neither—
Entwined amongst each other
Against this black light,
My dearest Love.
Till we are We no longer.
Us no longer.

And One.

It is quiet; very quiet. You’ve picked your hour wisely. The lights are all off except for the fifty Watt halogen you’ve left on – you’ll be needing it for the upcoming moments, and even this will be extinguished once its purpose is accomplished.

Seventy-five milligrams, a Vastus Lateralis, and a bit of courage. That’s all you need.

As the needle makes its way inside, you find yourself wholly unaware of the sensation. Thankful for the little blessing, you begin the actual process. Like its build-up, it is smooth.

The needle is out now, leaving no memento except a tiny drop of blood. Even that is levelled out as you place a pad of gauze on top of the area.

You reach for the lamp, flick it off, and lie down.

That was it.

As all the neat packets coming into your brain break up and their constituents fly away from each other, you head fills up with a sort of static, a tingling, ringing, oscillating bolt of auditory polytony that skewers you from ear to ear. The transition into this chaos of transmission is effortless and were it not for your expectation of the process you wouldn’t have noticed.

As you lose awareness of your explicit physicality, You begin to aggregate out of the atomic cacophony. This is now You, devoid of physical being. It is You unadulterated, untouched, unsullied. For a while You revel in the sheer pureness of it all, drinking in the lucidity of all thought, all emotion, and

Time dies.

I sit here, in this synchronized randomness. There's a lot of Brownian® textbook stuff as the bits and pieces of reality collide against each other and against the vessel that lives them, all of it culminating in the absolutely absolute nothingness at all, for there is no end, no beginning-- there is just now, and there is just forever. As always.

And for a split-second the world fades as the lights dim down to blackness in a self-sustained lack of sustenance, an obliteration that's almost willed in its apparent conviction.

The overture has bowed out, the movement is building up, the photons' dispersals are picking up tempo, the gradient is gone, the equation becomes logarithmic--

And now it crescendoes,

And now it peaks--

It is black again.

I look around, a dim undercurrent of consciousness all the while aware of the futility of the act. It doesn't accomplish anything and all I get is a schizoid, hazy image of me turning my head from side to side in a land of zero visibility.

Thoughts of You begin to coalesce and again the Continuity is set up as if it never wasn't.

And with it, again, comes light.