An Opening

So stop everything else now, my sweet- except that timed, to the moving seas embrace; the hallucinate breath of the body's rising. Let it be as sweet as, nearly cloying- lips shivering under remembered pressure; or voices faded, but no less reassuring. Tastes of night, in the hearts blood flowing, or airy essence tumbling secret chambers- fluid fountainings, where one's safe from danger. Goblet-ed offerings, to some half-remembered god; carved myths on trees, over slumbering sod- these are distractions, from a truth concrete. So stop if you will, suffer me to silence, but leaving an opening: hope can always get in again.