" Fever Dreams "
by Miranda
Did we really happen? Was I awake?
Or was it just an island dream
spun from longing?
Longing hangs invisible
here, drifts through the air with the fragrance
of the frangipani, but more like the beauty of the machineel
disguising its own poison, spelling red
in silence
Look, don't touch! Inhale, don't taste!
The water here, the air, the sky, so clear you
can believe it all one thing -
and know yourself the seer who understands the meaning.
Convincing enticement.
It makes you want. It makes you blind. It makes you smile.
It made you, candle blowing sigh breath long, mine.
The truth is though, like someone famous so simply wrote,
(Lao-tzu, when he wasn't writing about plums or
other tangibles...he said)
"The truth that can be told is not the truth", and without
the cloud of longing and promising illusion fog,
in the other light of other day
more clear than our pure sea,
that is what has happened here.
No ones fault. No ones fault.
