Patrick Dumas (August 1,1985 / Milford, CT)
Birth In The Desert, Death at Sea
Though it is high noon,
the moon hangs in the sky
opposite the sun.
He sits on the periphery
of the sand dune –
a transparent white face against
the faded blue sky.
The dry waves of the orange slope
dissolve as the wind blows
over them – it is his breath
that pushes the sand
away from his barren orbiter mouth.
The sun, with her love of eternal fire,
burns the lost souls that dwell
in these foothills.
This is where the two met
four years ago and performed
the ancient incantation of bondage.
They still have the scars on their hands –
The sword was needed to obtain their blood
on that cool, velvet colored evening.
The crow and snake were sacrifices
to the universe whose approval was necessary.
Like the sands of the desert,
their love began as a part to a
larger whole, was lifted in a swirl
of illusion to only be rested back down
again; lost and looking for a way back home.
Now, resting on the shore where souls
are blown to for rebirth,
the lovers grant one last kiss
as they head toward the waves
where every last soul of love dies.
Comments about this poem (Birth In The Desert, Death at Sea by Patrick Dumas )
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