Muse

You have now become the bright 

Heavenly ink of my dark soul 

That writes about the night and love, 

And the tight, painful feelings 

Of loving you that

Soften as we touch. 

O, to write about us! 

The Moon! 

Truth lives in your eyes. 

I will dwell there until we sleep again, 

Silently on the bosom of the warm, dark earth,
Waiting to change into dust

That shall touch and recall
That hour of our mother's
Warm and watery womb.