Love story
You’ve just invented gravity, she told me
So I fell at her feet – and she smiled and knew and smiled and blew
little kisses towards the core of me. Then closer. She loomed and leaned
on the curtains of my chest, little did she intend when falling
into my land. They could not catch her, her hands, as curtains are
hardly a wall. I told her. Curtains are hardly a wall – but it seems
she chose the fall.
She smirks at me from inside my chamber
once a no go area, I clearly remember;
no good for anything but beating. Beating. What one gets one does.
But now the beats have changed, and so did the chamber. The beats
have lanes of wonder and render; for veins to be alive.
For plentiful curtains to take up knives
And the knives to slice away abundance
And the abundance to flee the curtains
So the curtains exist at all times open
And this is the moment where all became clear
she spoke and revealed to me; an open heart dear
an open heart thrives.
(From start to finish she conducted; her arms high up in the air,
commanding all orchestras to open. All chambers, all veins,
all choirs, all lanes – all love to be released)
She sits back
satisfied but humble, and
watches over the ensemble
that we like to call
me.
