I Sang, You Came

I sang aloud

in a tongue so native; so proud; so old

that my eyes shook and my hands felt

the warmth of a sun, so Spaniard in its nature

that the air would smell of grass and kings.

And you came, with a lightened face

that told the world that you were here,

only here, to hear my voice.  And your mouth

opened, and your ears rejoiced, and the sounds

of pure joy that spouted forth

were oh so lovely

that the blades of grass -- a thousand miles away--

rose high into the sky, with edges proud and sharp enough

to cut the throats of angels; of our fathers.

One hand grabbed my neck

The other walked my cheek, 

and our eyes melted everything before us

except each other.

You became my visage

and I your personage

and we stared on into the vast

expanse of an almost infinite river that streched

the length of time it took for me to realize:

That these hands might blend 

in a space so pure, confined, and black

as whiskey in a barrel

only in a dream.

The End

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