A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth.
Six Months
You lull me to sleep with the quiet sounds of your late night scrambling
I see you most out of the corner of my eye, and I’m already falling asleep after a long day of adventuring.
The lights are still on. There are animals to feed and water, and I have dreams to overcome, splinters of October wind to expel from my mind.
And just as I’m starting to fade out, you pounce. The whole bed rocks. My arms find you, like they always do, and I think I’ve never rested until now, this moment, this new forever.
I think of weary Dante and his fearful hunt from Beatrice, and I know he doesn’t know the divine entanglement like I do right now, left in the cold as he was, for God is love
As is his heaven.
As six months expand further up the spheres. Flesh of my flesh. Soul of my soul.
And I’m born for this.
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