Illusions
At the centre of my instinct
sagacious slivers glow with glister,
distinct with comprehension,
content in knowing all to know.
Herein, though dwells illusion,
related as a wayward sister,
by default or by invention,
showing all there is to show.
In the juices of my rousing
rising tides rush with a wonder,
intense and love awaking
slowly deluged in the flood.
And though it seems idyllic,
when the waves attract me under,
you are there beside me making
my illusions flesh and blood.
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