Poem #4

In the presence of Hathor
The warmth of the fire of Asgard
On our backs

In the middle of the Indian Ocean
In the center of Yam's domain
Crying out in pain
Reaching out in vain
The heart's bain
Forcing the lame
To walk toward the ever present book shelf
Of sacred tomes
Full of invisible words
Of life's greatest unknown mysteries

It was there that I met you
In your dark red evening gown
In the deepest dungeon
Being beaten with a rubber truncheon
At the brain dead musician's
Final luncheon

In the sea of wealth
Where I was left on the yacht
To sleep forever on the cot
Where man had once sought
To control the world's black tea
There you found me

Under the stars we laughed
Under the two suns we cried
By your voice the universe ended
And by your left hand it was once again created

A night in paradise
Sleeping in a castle made of ice
Together we walked
The flame of Aeolus at our back
The light of Aphrodite to our front
All of the Planet Erebus
Could not fathom her strength and size
Aristotle's unwanted prize

The price of freedom
The cost of wisdom
Paid with the ink
Made from the blood of the tiniest life forms

I would transverse the thirteen seas
To the lost kingdom of Sarkova
And travel to the deepest methane mines

To the great chalk lines
Of the Mendozan planes
To find the graven images
Of ancient flase idols
To Chalchiuhtlicue
And Radmir
Carved by Lockroth himself
If only, my love
You'd come back