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By juan d'fule Date: 2004 Nov 12 Comment on this Work [[2004.11.12.06.23.24756]] |
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In the beginning there was nothing No love or warmth or breast as hearth Devoid of life or that intentional touch For what is life without warmth, love and touch? I say that life is a vacuum though even that Vast black empty space above which Engulfs our world is full of beauty and despair And is what drew our eyes that night Your head fragrant and warm against my shoulder As we sat on the edge of the hang Glider platform At the very top of Bowen town Heads Far below us, the ocean speaking in its rhythmic verse Bringing stories from the shores of olde, Africa, India The feel of silk, the smell of spice on its breath Overhead, small, wispy spattered groups of clouds Like the remnants of some guerrilla army Rallying, crying, regroup, regroup Eventually giving up through lack of enthusiasm And drifting apart to clear the sky For the Stars, Moon, Mars and Venus How many hours we had talked, words; Lost, carried on the warm nights breeze To whisper in another's ear... lover How many weeks it had taken me to get you here With my poetry and flowers, drawings and guitar But here we were and the moment was mine And together we sat, resting against each other For an hour, or an eternity, I can't recall, but At least an hour had passed, without a word For communication paled against the poetry of this night Could not speak of the beauty of this one brief moment Of love and warmth and breast as hearth And in the beginning, there had been nothing. |