Man Of My Dreams

He comes from out of the blackness immersed in a magnificent light, his warmth

emanating beyond his reach every space darkened by the night.

He delivers me from the boundaries of this thing I call my mind to walk with

me along a path never straying for the course does wind.

We come upon a withered rose its petals sealed-up tight, his radiant warmth seeps into

every crevice for it cannot reach his light.

A wonderful thing starts to happen the petals open wide as if to drink of his essence

the sweet nectar that bleeds from inside.

I ask him how this thing can be surely it had no substance it was dying in misery. He

said your lacking in faith believing only in what you can see.

The rose has drank of what it knew was there sustaining its softness and everlasting

life, all in all, it did feed its beauty.

I said then what of the rose that did not bloom so did it die in vain?

I watched it grow from a seedling just a small bud upon a vine why did it never opened

its petals, he said that it wasn't yet its time.