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How I smiled in fields of gold
Your voice inside my head.
Sleeping on a dandelion seed
With the broken light bleeding
Unto stars that fell as petals fall
Around our dreaming breath,
So softly rising, as waves of the sea
Between the shores of Being and The Dark.

How I recall—your eyes in crystal flight
With the beating of something more than wings
Within this slumber of our fading suns
At the shrouded gate of the breath of day
Where all lights were fading into veils of sleep
That so resembled flight between the spheres
Both mortal and unknown…

Across borders of our distant dreams
We clasp the glass of our separate shores,
But it is only in our lives that we bleed.
And still, I discern the demonic night
That haunts outside our parallel voids
Where the sea is heaving endlessly
In a storm that threatens to waken
The morning ghosts of light.

We are fading, fading, over the waters
Returning to the field of our rest
Where the moon is ash, and the sun is blood,
And grasses sigh with the ache of their song
That we hear with our hearts, and with our tears.
But still, I smile…still I smile there in that field,
For it is your voice that haunts me—
Such a torment is so aching a pleasure
As you sleep by my side.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle