This is a poem that I wrote to my wife for our anniversary a couple of years ago.

In dreams we are alone,
beneath a lavender sky and shattered moon
whose remnants form a stairway to a nebula door,
beyond which lies the translucent silence of Eternity.

Through that door we tumble, falling past choir angels
practicing a song of golden light, which divides
stars from night, and we fall through that gray incision
into an ocean of mist and whispers.

In this haunted sea, we are held aloft, bouncing lazily
through the diffused currents, spun along towards
a gaping maw of withered darkness and fear.
Our uncaring weight pulls us through, and fall again.

We fall for a million years in each other’s arms;
during that time, we learn not to speak, but sink
into each other’s thoughts; our flesh melds,
and a cocoon is spun around us from past fears and deeds.

After the fall, we land through mountain of rose pedals,
crashing through the burgundy softness for a hundred more years.
The cocoon lands gently and rolls end over end, and at last
cracks open.

We emerge, newly born and naked, before the gates of a reborn world.
Sun etching clouds into the sky, valleys digging like moles,
and ebony trees abounding with succulent fruit.

Here, together, in our stark condition,
we renew the dreams and hopes that have kept our love anew;
the serpents vanquished by the doves, the rainbows painted across the stars,
our eyes locking, our lips never parting, our love resplendent in eternal spring.