On the eve of war he comes to me

On the eve of war he comes to me In all the life leading up to this he lived it for me; Time blurred and my heart was still a seed All curses and heartache were behind glass for me to watch in niavity Freedom was a place in stories He placed it in the palm of my hand: Smaller than a dew drop, brighter than a sunbeam Sight,touch, life Then my body splits at the sight of him, I multiply at his grasp I cling to him- the gentle rasp of his breath, the constant ache of his chest I see him in the shadows on the floor, in every woman's eyes' Hollows, fragments, shifts, bends Intoxicated by his abundance Imprisoned by his promise False forevers in his letter I come to him on the eve of death Not knowing of the battles ahead I'm unmasked by his communion of kisses, by his mass of lies I climb outside myself and look to them this row of unmasked statues waiting to come to life I come to him on the eve of paradise with a promise to die beside him- to die beneath him In the place I began, in the place that he found me- to let his divinity surround me