Fragment. To Diana Magnay

Diana, when the sun wakes you up in the morning with the dew and reflections on the water, I kiss your sleepy lips in my mind and stroke your oat-colored hair with the very tip of my finger. Soon you will wake up and a sliver of sunlight will find a shelter between your beautiful eyelashes.

And I walk away as a thin shadow behind the amber breeze of your curtains.

I imagine you waking up, smiling at the world as you wake up, rising up on your bed, exposing your soft, delicate skin to all the winds of our universe.

........

And here you are,Diana..

You fly like an eternal messenger, a blue-eyed phoenix, to the other side of America, then to Canada. You fly in the sunlight through the streets, and you see life, and you see truth. And I mentally take your hand, intertwining your delicate musical fingers like a wreath of dandelions, and let warm winds with shards of stars and suns pass between yours  palms.

and we run. you - with paper words, political news, turned suddenly into a bird in fiery plumage, cutting through the cold of the February streets; and me, invisible and infinitely forgotten by you, but near. invisible. invisible....

And here you are, Diana, tapping your shoes on the paving stones painted gold by the sun, you are gazing into the mysteries of the clouds, hiding your hands from the cold in the pockets of your gray coat. And suddenly you - stop. suddenly you felt my kiss on your tender cheek, and you think: who, well, who could give you this bit of warmth right in the middle of the street?

And you look in bewilderment at those around you - at the men and women, even at the stones under your feet. but you still can't find an answer. and you turn to the heavens in the end and ask: why are you, sunshine, kissing me right here in front of everyone on the street?

Diana, when will you understand, my beautiful lady, with hair the color of ripe oats, that the sun never stopped loving you for a moment. And that I love you a thousand times longer and hotter.

It's me, I come into your dreams... and I lay my head with the hair of the light of thawed ice on your tender shoulders, and I lead you through the moonlit gardens, forcing you to breathe deeply even there; I kiss your palms and your back, and your collarbones, and your lips are the sweetest, and I carry you away in the dances of the moon, and I see love in your fleeting glances and touches, and I give you love in every kiss and word.

after all, it is the words that I am the keeper of — oh, listen to each one, collect my words with your own hands woven from linen baskets, and spread them out between the pages of old books to dry like flowers, and breathe, breathe, and remember. after all, I am the owner of the words — find the meaning in each of my prepositions and interjections, read the line and look a little between it. After all, I am the creator of words, so know that forever and from now on, every breath I take is meant for you alone.

Diana,
just remember me, just hold out your open palm to me from your dreams.
but come out to dance with me to the flutes of the stars in the moonlit fields
only kiss me, dissolving me with a flower in the decoction of healing teas.
you will find me and your lost love when you return to the Beginning...