In an illuminated manuscript lies the fabric of a dream.
In this dream my eyes are cavern-black and my body lead-heavy,
buried under the weight of grave, metal-armoured centuries.
In this dream our love is medieval,
of swaying grass and of ancient stone,
of the harp’s twinge in the evening light.
In this dream I am a naked knight,
bare but for my persistence in love.
In this dream you whisper to me:
“If I forget,
you be the one to remind me”.
In this dream I kneel before you,
as the light pours in,
in seven thousand mirrors of light.
In this dream,
the maiden’s hair cascades,
In this dream
I will be the one to remind you,
if you forget.