The spirited light, solar-like wind, breath with its passion, the sun's copious erotic venom. I speak of everything and all things without caution: this noise inside my head, layers of high-pitched harmonics, the compressed hours between birth and death, the heart's heat ascending and descending, the end always beginning and again your Gothic eyes. I have been here and there, a prodigal hawk with the flavor of blood-kisses hovering like steam or mist or a weapon stirring the body's carbonic magnetic motion. Always the silence, never the sky disclosing the stillness in death's fantasy - life and death, love and loss, a fatalistic dream-reel as if two mirrors facing each other reflecting a vacant image. I remember a faint trail of finger prints. My impatient pulse raced into yours: deserted passions, like roses, each one dies the same way - our emotions mumbled through love and into the glazed elixir of a French kiss: In my arms you had fallen asleep not knowing I had left. ========================================= Published in Setu Magazine (India) ©dah / dahlusion all rights reserved from my unpublished manuscript, Fragmented