Possibly Real
Strewn with buds upon night’s skyscape ,
we followed the hovel of an outer-world
As fluted leaves
formed a hologram of our map--
a journey granting passage
into real existence;
Where our twin- souls moved in silence.
I felt your hands cuddling a bounty of flowers
And we meet in Portugal
third instance,
Cleansing lost time in holy water.
The procession of candles brushed the air
quite sacred: white lilies unfurling petals
into hundred lights
on the shrine
of mother Mary ,
while young stars crowned us again...
was it 1918 when our eyes first met here?
Till we strolled through a monolith of statues
blessing our paths ...aligning our thoughts
In the house of Fatima, of transparent gods;
taking our silent vows
with co-owned vintage cameos...
But the vision turns into ripples;
I’m by myself ,
a lone pilgrim
trapped around a grotto...wondering
if this scene were chimeric illusion
or timeless reality...
How I longingly touch your face,
feeling those sighs , like...
like they were my own earthy breath.
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