Were we uncommon

Are you watching the stars.
Are you under the covers warm with the light that bends around this earth.
Which touches the disk in the sky, called by many names through the earliest of eyes, which gazed then bathed their cool body under a river of a silver sliver of opalescent moon.

Taken; you lay, held wordless as this crescent grew to a fullness,  then hungrily waning away, a thirst to follow a rhythm of changes.

Are you watching the stars. Forever never changes, an orb that becomes change. Consistent desired primal and true. Carnal peace a stone that fits upon the body flows .
Phosphor light filling a rhythm.
Were not for the winged iridescent curious creatures born absorbed with the celestial colour.                                           Were this not my body that painted from a moons glow, were this not a memory, where from a wind carried thought through an evenings vesper.

Would not my piece of being fit so well into your wish so perfectly. That we would be as once, no one living today uncommonly remembers .

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