a message for the Prophet

i sometimes dream 

before sleep snatches me away

 

that you and i 

are surrounded by summer.

 

the days are thick and sticky

like ancient honey. 

 

july sun rains blows upon my saturated skin

and all i can think about are oak trees. 

 

i feel their leaves burrowing into the soles of my feet

and can’t breathe; fine sand pours into my lungs.

 

again

i return to the ruins where i was born

 

and you stand on the other side of life

holding my hand 

 

anchoring me to absolutely nothing 

and i love you.