On being away, away, away, away.
Let the waves lull that part of thee to sleep,
in the tender arms of memory keep.
And listen to what I say, I say.
Let me place a finger on your lips,
to quiet those objections that rise up,
the artesian rejections of the pleasure that comes,
that comes as I touch my lips to your skin,
and kiss, kiss downwards,
to the rising center of your spirit.
I will draw you out through that,
inhale your spirit through my kiss,
that closest kiss of which the entrance to heaven is made,
and your force of will breaks through to that moment,
that moment of clouds and rain.
Let the ridges turn to plains,
let the fields turn to cliff,
that rises pillar up from eternal forest.
Let the vessels be filled,
let the rivers be dammed,
and fill to swollen energy,
that spring that turns on any day.
Let my oval be your basilica,
as the spire rises to that place above,
to reach that earthly paradise,
that is desired but never seen.
Let the prayer you make be in me,
let the moisture enfold your love.
Let Each promise be forever,
and then lie soft on my breast,
like resting dove.
Let your sleep over come you,
having fury spent in all its urge,
let the lethe course through you,
and bring those dreams a treasure trove.
But then let me kiss your clos-ed lids,
and soft part like the last rays of day.
And you swaddled in your sonambulent bliss,
know that when I am away,
That I and I and all I bring, is what your life lacks,
and your being cries out for what you miss.