In the gaze of the other

"My mistress' eyes are nothing…"

Past the Virtual Dream

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In a dream I spilled my coffee and you dabbed the drops dry
then kept me in the sanctuary of sunny walls of the canyon.
You surrounded the silence inside and out of the darkness,
sheltered me from the unknown and unseen threats
spewing from my head and the encroaching sentence.

Though a vision, the cocooned comfort of clean warmth
saturated my skin and soothed the silhouettes of scenes
I played in the air which demonized and tormented me.
The silken offerings of shelter and savory songs, teeming time
and release, held me suspended in secure freedom and relief.

Even as you encased me, swept me from danger a while,
ensuring ever peace and never entry either, none for me
who pierced your persona, the mask that sailed through days
without a hitch, I was not there, nor were you for all we said
for all we did, the lapse of waves on the ocean front of the inn.

I sat on a porch in the vineyards with you sipping wine and sage
in that illusion as we drifted through somnambulant skies of amber
portraying the iconic lovers of notes, words, cells and seasons.
Culling the seeds of our silvery days we played Tristan and Isolde
and all about us applauded the proposal, the performance of us.

But awakening in the half lit room of slatted rays of golden dust
I feel your shadow lingering hidden deep like rusty pipes
in the foundation of this house, shambled upright and tall.
The image creeps about the corners of my eyes, tingles sight,
but I stretch open the passage of the day with true flesh and mind.

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