August

You are the August sunrise of my sight
The comfort sigh of my soul arriving home
The flourishing rainbow in my darkness
I don’t care if I can have you
I’ve had you in different lives
And I know I’ll have you in other ones
But time isn’t linear, is it?
In a parallel divine thought, you’re laving with myrrh my spiritless body
inside my sepulcher, grieving.
And somewhere else, your laugh lines reveal the anamnesis of our completeness.