No Puppet Of Desire

No Puppet Of Desire
© Surazeus
2018 06 27

My body is no puppet of desire,
I insist to cold water in my blood
that your heart pumps into my flashing eyes,
for my breast is the mountain where you play,
and your eyes are the deep pool where I swim,
but when desire urges my helpless feet
to walk the broken world to your soft garden
I admit I am puppet of your love.

I heard somebody say these things with love
so I repeat them to express my passion
but I feel silly, flushing with desire,
so I stand mute and touch your hand with mine,
hoping to connect our separate hearts
across the infinite abyss of hope
where I fall when I cannot feel your hand,
so I become the world where you may walk.

I never speak the name people call you
for they own that part of you they describe,
but I can never own any one part
of you, because I love the all of you,
so I can never confine your lithe soul
inside stale definition of one name,
since every word I speak to you all night
composes the name of your flowing soul.

I fall out of myself when you walk by
and float away singing into the sky,
yet flash back down inside my dizzy head
when you vanish, so I sit by mute lake
and think about deep timbre of your voice,
so when I feel you standing at my side
I turn to embrace you inside my heart
but absence of you is the silent ghost.

I am the fruit on the tree of your hope
so when you touch me with defining hand
I wake from dream of nothing to become
landscape of the fertile world you explore
so when you touch my secret name and smile
I drip from honeycomb into your mouth
till we twist slowly into one soft body
and our names disappear into each other.

Sweet scent of the half-peeled orange sparkles gold
as sunlight on grass where our bodies merge
in writhing tension of explosive light
that glitters the first flash of the big bang
awake as consciousness of the whole world
so I am every soul who ever lived,
gaining wisdom with each discharge of death
to float nameless in placid sea of loss.