"A rush of blood to the heart"

A rush of blood to the heart
A heart stricken and enlivened
An enlivened soul rearing to crescendo

Maybe this is just a dream of a yesteryear
A memory come back to haunt me
Never-dying and perpetual
A dream living wild off itself

She's all the proof I've ever needed
A consignment straight from the echoes
Resonant and deep in my inner world
A secret wish and a burning desire given word

Carried along by the primordial storm
A storm raging and wrathful and velvet red
Red and black, like black encroaching night
Nights spent wrapt by her dominion
The dominion in which my mind is most free

—M.M.

infra

light bent askew- the blessed eyeing sin askance
humanity drained & obsidian substance infused
a line Of terror streaking across the silence
wordless, formless -light bent askew

Appassionata

Like light cast into a swirling mass

of night, I am torn and I am stripped

A mind trapped by the confines that

love has erected around me. A passion

tantamount to violence, softly infusing

I lift myself and bare my soul to the sun

Run by the cold rivers, in the ancient wood

Dreamless the dreamer in the dead of night

My nights that she keeps, with her pale, beautiful

hand; a hand I wish like madness to hold

I slip away, to the wayside, to the inside

deep into the core of a starless vault

where she alone shines, bright and warm

The might of it, the weight of it—the

simple thought of her nestled next to my heart

Forces that came forth from heat, kinetic

energy come into being like the first bursts

of light: wrapt, as I am, by her movements

Sonorous and dulcet voice repeated in aural

memories, or a twirl and a tilt of the head in visual

scenes of just yesterday or the first day we spoke

Dreamless this dreamer who dreams for requital

but the dream effaced away like mist of an

early winter morning. An inner light that has grown

in me illuminates landscapes both arid and fertile

The streams of future are wayward stallions

unbridled and untamed. Just as passion and desire

run unfulfilled. Rove the rover lost in his own land

a land no longer his own but reigned by a hand

and a light cupping his heart and irradiating his mind

A mind that has been satisfied at long last, by a mind

stitched together the same, with the same sheen of darkness

All like water through a sieve and physical laws perfect

to a precision imperceptible by man. Because she is

precision, a blade with an edge so fine that my thoughts

themselves are rent. And assorted as they are in strange

new ways, by the beck of her word and her worth.

Regina of my night; dusk under your tow

countess of my day; dawn encroaching with your step

If truth be the sole judge of this passion, then my crucible

has been passed, and exceeded, and utterly engulfed by

the fire in her eyes, the blaze of her caress and the

inferno-maelstrom of her mind. Dominion of passion

Turbulence of storm-assailed sea. Love of a vastness

never known before by this dreamless dreamer