The Trance

Sometimes, apart in sleep, by chance,

You fall out of my arms, alone,

Into the chaos of your separate trance.

My eyes gaze through your forehead, through the bone,

And see where in your sleep distress has

Its path, which on your lips is

And on your hands and in your dream forlorn.

Restless, you turn to me and

Those timid words against my

Which thunder at my heart like stones."Mercy," you plead,

Then "Who can bless?"You ask. "I am pursued by Time," you moan.

I watch that precipice of

You tread, naked in naked distress.

To that deep care we are

Beneath the wildness of our

And shuddering horror of our dream,

Where unmasked agony is permitted.

Our bodies, stripped of clothes that seem,

And our souls, stripped of beauty's mesh,

Meet their true selves, their charms outwitted.

This pure trance is the

That speaks no language but the

Our angel with our devil

In the atrocious dark nor do they

But each forgives and greets,

And their mutual terrors

Within our married miracle.