Let Us Choose

Let us walk…
Barefoot and knee deep in the wheat fields of the dead, painted white by the light of the moon-
White-
Like my Dress, its hem gently kissing the stocks of wheat as we  move quickly, quietly, towards the shore-
Stillness-
All that is known and unknown falls deaf in the mind, and the only sound my ears can hear, is the rush of blood, and the whispers of breath.
Alive-
Our feet paw at the soft earth, impatient but steady, steady, and heavy, like the tick of a clock in an empty room-
Or more like the hands of time themselves, grasping at the  earth, ripping away at its flesh to exposing its honest form.
Time-
A mirage, the silent ambassador, of patient truth...
Reveling, and concealing all that we once knew, and all that we will never know.
For what is time, to the dead?
So let us be ghosts-
Let us die without fear of loosing...
Let us pass in and out of memory, as faces no one can remember-
Let us enter these cold waters-
Let the darkness surround us, lifting my dress, like laughter, in a lonely place-
Let the waves lick the insides of my thighs-
Allow your hands to rise, allow me to feed upon their touch, and yours, mine, and let us live in life as if in death, without the fear of fear, or what is left