The Existential Faith

I have seen this autumnal moon in daylight

above blue orbs
something soars, flocks of larks making off
to the south.

You are my lark of the flock of brunette locks

busty and fertile
is the bust of your hair

lust is the dirt of the yellow fields underneath
the moon.

My hands made your hips make me new
every morning of the three thousand days we
lived together.

Now it is the full moon in daylight that draws
your body and cultured breath
on the walls of my beating heart

the tepid, tepid beats of survival which find
small hopes in the nothingness above.

For love is when the nothingness and the every-
thing believe as though one.

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