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By Nicholas Gordon
When you sleep you are not with me.
But I am with you.
I watch your closed door and am free to wander,
my consciousness alone with us in the darkened room.
My love is the blanket covering you.
My love is the moonlight on your face.
My love hovers over you like an angel.
Not me. Not you.
Alone, yet with you, I am free to wonder.
Restless, yet at perfect peace, I am filled with beauty.
Silently it sings and I listen.
Motionless it dances and I watch.
Tied to you forever, I am alone and free
as I wait by your closed door
and watch you sleep
By Nicholas Gordon
Dreams do come true, but only when
they make it through despair,
Limping into everyday
Transformed beyond repair.
No dream would be a dream if it
could pass for something real,
nor would we sail for paradise
would it its shoals conceal.
So it is with love: the dream
long longed for, now possessed,
Must be a dream no longer, but
an emperor undressed.
Stark naked it must come to us
in unaccustomed shame,
and we must take it in our arms
and love it all the same.
And we must love love as it is
That dreams might still come true,
Mangled into miracles
To make our lives anew
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