With your face framed in a halo of stars,
your hair melts into trailing clouds,
and your eyes in moonlight drown.
A man could lose himself
in those freckled irises,
reflecting the galaxies above;
surely he could fall into their promise
of eternity, of Heaven, of love.
Your lips glisten, part, and beckon,
a smile of warm invitation,
a suggestion of sweet intensity,
a loss of self in addictive agony.
For we translate these aesthetics
into something mystical;
ideas of fantasy, of fiction,
obscuring the clinical truth
of chemical reactions,
electric sparks, responses
as sure as gravity,
measurable yet beyond cold,
above philosophy and below truth.
I can – and will – drown
as I fall into your comforting gaze
of seduction, suffocating,
taking me higher and higher
into darkness and light, into
a duality of self and spirit,
never knowing for sure,
and perhaps never caring,
that these surges of ecstatic release
as we join and melt together
are either empty impulses
or gifts of a great divine,
as I cascade deeper into you,
as your eyes in moonlight shine.
© 2015 Scott Kaelen
Featured in DeadVerse: Poetry Volume One