Beneath the Star Spent Sky

 A collaboration: runningturtle87 and Atakti




Barely awake, we lie on the bed of burning
dreams, beneath the star spent sky.
The embers chatter about the wonders
of the world, stood long before the hands
of man moved.

I want to touch the ridge of a listening ear,
see just how closely I can smooth my reach
before a wicked hand swipes away my tempting
lightening trigger-sifted touch. I am an imp…
imperial mischief.

Laboring in its hold, the cradled casket
of worries bids us throw a cord of wood
onto the blaze.  Stars soar and dreams
sparkle, that one listening to another
is itself the bare bosom.

I will not be assuaged without the kissed
finkling ear. Whispers wrap their tidbit
senses around my mind and prey on demons
of my thoughts. Leaning into the dark,
the shadows dance.

All philosophies of the aged ancients
bestow the reasons for the universe.
Wishes woven through Saturn rings,
spirits giving all, blazing fire rays
are bequeathed blessings.

Hope spheres gleam in lunar orbit –
this sky is one in all. We have seen
the fire inside our dreams, driving us.
Our tracks, the traces of the glow
retroflexed in our eyes.

Red storms thunder out of Jupiter,
the birth of star-crossed pleas.
A beacon wrestles us, in arms
of trust, that we might believe
in bare hearts.