Virgin Soil

In the heart of the meadow
we said our goodbyes.
Our sun here had been gutted.
Our fruit here is dry.
No more life left, nor thought,
but the cue that it’s time.
So you plunged for your freedom.
First you jumped — 
Then I.

I awoke…
to a place of sweet, sad acid trips
A bustling oasis
Dreams licking their lips
Highs of vast stimulations
and a fierce solitude
Lost in bitter isolation
among shrill altered hues
Muffled grunts of the herd 
driven to the back row
along with the moths 
of our barren meadow.

I search you in the crowd
but you’ve fallen elsewhere.
And I, I must go on swimming
through this grand athmosphere.

We both found our theatrical paradise.
But beyond physical logic,
by fortunate ties,
I know we are bound.
In dream-state I know
that we have common ground.

I remember a place
a sere distant glow
not a touch
without sound

our meadow.