Believing, Part I

In dreams I sink deep
through ink-black soil
where the wet grit
fills my lungs,
til my pulse is a river, rushing towards the sky
and the clouds pound the earth
with my blood.

Let me be honest

I am defeated by the most beautiful things in you
your smile, a glance,
your eyes
and the universe therein
exploding again and again with thought and magic
All that you could be
to me-I can never let that go
the possibilities--
you are the golden child of the theoretical,
My hypothetical forever
(if forever ever did exist)
lost in a sea of maybes and what-ifs--
let me be honest:
let me be honest and say that I am afraid, and that this fear--all consuming--
has still not brought you low
or carved you from my heart
let me say that yes--it may not be you
but if it is not you, it is nothing
It is nothing, and I am nothing, and that is all right.
Please understand me:
I can't believe that I am more than I am.
I'm skin and I'm bones and two eyes that see and see and see
and two hands that touch
and a heart that aches
And aches
And Aches
til all syllables lose their meaning
til no words can rhyme and all their letters
fall out of form; No,
I am not more than this
no more than breath and sounds and
smoke, curling up and faraway
in the dark of night--No,
I am no more than a dream--strange, subtle--
which, in waking, leaves strings of thought
bound in ceaseless refrain--
What can I be to you?
Can I remake myself in stone and steel
coal and carbon
can I burn on
Can I be
everything