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They Speak to Me


They speak to me with broken tongues, with eyes shining as bright as the sun. They look into my eyes for something hidden within me, yet known within themselves, like a cool hand on a fevered brow or a loving caress next to sleep.

I want to ask them who I am, but I’ve already been told it’s something I needn't see, the answers to that which I cannot know. Still, I call to them in my dreams and dance alongside their swaying hips. I hold them dear so they might soon share their Love with the new world.

They look as if they’ve known me forever, with eyes swimming to the same rhythm as my dreams, with the same gaze of the angels that hover next to me long after I’ve opened my eyes. Their skins shimmer under the morning sun as their wide and beautiful smiles beam a signal, an ivory banner of “Welcome Home!” They summon me into an unknown truth like the fate that writhes in the mind of a jumper, the heart safely tucked away beneath a daring love.

I will hold my fears at bay. I will take their offerings, that they might eagerly lead me along paradise road into the waiting arms of creation. I love them as if they’re children, as if their gleaming stories are most sacred and their fate is equal to mine.



© 2011 by mark prime

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