Love Mercury,
Let us weave our personal myth:
What is a life,
If not mythologized?
Epic tales spun
from threads of mundanity,
Fairy castles built
from bricks of banality —
Gaze of Midas! one touch,
symphonies sprout in technicolor
from muddy monochrome monotony—
Observation, breath of life,
Color returning to your cheeks—
What is life
but a series of strings,
waiting for deft hands,
nimble fingers?
And love: the greatest weaver of them all!
before my thread
converged with yours
I felt you,
on the way the wind blew on my face,
the way my first sip of water tasted—
I knew something was different,
I felt you.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 