A sidereal breeze would herald mornings,
sprinkling stars on my window sill
with music so delightful, that smiles
would spring in lovers lips and dreams.

I would walk all night awake
while everyone else is asleep.
Imagining ways to dare, to let go.
So that those impulses of forever
dissolve the tribal context of my mind
-the spaces of my ignorance.

I would dance with the svelte night,
so elegantly dressed in her dark cloak,
adorned with sounds of mystery,
and stories of love, shadows and memories.

Tender rains would then pour on me;
maternal woos, sensual lips,
and the laughter of children in eternal play.
-a total feminine display.

My body would collapse.
All the jars within my mind would pop open their lids,
spilling silly things like intellectual pride,
irony, sarcasm, wittiness, and cynicism.

And of all that insistence in showing off
would vanish like vapor
through the windows of the mind-heart open ajar.

For whenever we dance with the Splendorous Night,
our shadows are diluted by her Shadow, our dark side
is devoured by her deep darkness.

Carriages with damsels aboard would gaily cruise in front of the awakened palace,
as Beauty dressed in woman, walks the universe.

All those tribes,
of our collective imagination
would parade incessantly before my open eyes,
Jews, Shiites, Sunni, Kurds, Tarahumara,
French, Aztecs, Mayas, Masai, Kikuyu,
Japanese, Chinese, American and Thai.

And so many, many others that I don’t remember
and that I never knew.

We would all parade in carnival’s caravans,
dancing, whining, laughing, suffering,
struggling, murdering, justifying, guessing,
forgiving, loving, each in our own script.

In sleepless nights I dream of you awake
and it brings the deluge again,
drowning all and everything that is perishable
with the flood of our derelict passions.

I then recount all my happenings
I remember everyone I have met,
every thought that crossed my mind
everything I should have said but didn’t.

Every feeling upturned by antagonism in conversation
when approaches and flavors differ.
(Because one is so attached to our own utterance stuff.)
So we invented fencing with concepts and words,
in a contest of who knows better, when we know nobody does.

Our heart feels sad when the friend’s embrace becomes evasive,
as reproaches follow the diversity of approaches on this and that,
whenever we forget that we are not apart in this slumber.

If sleeplessness was wealth, everything would have been forgiven,
we would live alongside the moon making light to shine,
over the marvelous things we illuminate
with our long moon fingers.

Laughter would fill every instant
and bitterness would be a flavor
in a British drink.
We would dance all night in rounds
of day and life.

Existence would be the essence of every glance and word.
Pillows and beds, just imaginary fluffy things
to whisper in stories into our ears,
as we dance so closely the sensual rhythms
of the naked night.

A night so intimate,
profound and authentic,
that everyone is unique
while being exactly the same.

Our sleeplessness of love would burn,
making the sun wake up before daybreak,
in an unexpected rave never seen .

The sun and the moon would then dance together
their steps of light within the night.

Our souls in a merry go round
will conceive a whole new universe again.

Out of this endless love.

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