What manner of man is he
That stray me from my cause so easily
When I could be with a thought
On the moon or in your arms
To distract me from my mission
Talking to me of love
As if love could live in a microchip…
But tell it to me again…
How I could feel the warmth of your hand
Thinking of love in a faraway land?
I think not but how tempting
You are
…Still a dream…
But surely an angel
That I even dare to dream again
When the words come like water
Spilling from my pen
A vision or a thought I’d seen
With crimson sunsets in between
So close to my reality, yet…
Still a dream…
So perhaps a ghost
Come to usher in an era of hope
In a world torn at such delicate seams
Ripped asunder
One touch and I might believe
Could almost believe…
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