We shall sail through the air a thousand country miles –

watch the falcons pirouette in the summer sky;

lunch upon bitter green apples and fermented mangoes

and nap beneath the cool luminous clouds;

quench our thirst with melodious wine

and toss stones down upon frozen lakes.

 

We shall immortalize poets against the echoing granite walls of time.

In bare feet we will land and dance in verdant green meadows

that carpet a bottomless valley;

trace our fingertips along the gnarled grooves

of a dying oak and bid it farewell.

 

We will bathe in babbling brooks that giggle at

our nakedness and dry ourselves in the wispy autumn winds.

Upon mountaintops, we shall squeeze sunsets between

our forefinger and thumb and slowly open them again to

the shimmering glow of a new moon.

 

We shall sleep beneath a canopy of universes and compose

our dreams against shimmering stars;

build wet sandcastles fit for kings on foreign shores

and feed them to the ravenous surf.

 

Beneath cascading waterfalls we’ll write tumbling

verse, while angelfish nibble at our dropped metaphors.

In the Mascarene Islands, we will fly kites built from

forest reeds and raffia palms until they are swallowed

by drifting winter clouds.

 

The return to a new day awaits us, and a thousand more

miles beneath our balloon before this life is drawn complete.

Awakening a memory, we close our eyes

and the colors of life’s possibilities explode beneath our lids.

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