Between misty twilight
and the cobalt ink of night,
you cunningly slip by veiled.
I sail away on the ship of fools;
forbidden waters are my tremulous haven.

You fathom, having survived
a thousand days of strife.
Your wisdom seduces, guides
me into treacherous tides,
where I survive the crafty undertow.
No one truly comprehends
living in your own steely shadow;
you are obliged to dwell
under the midnight sky,
seek illumination from a burrow of stars,
navigating perplexing, vulnerable paths,
obliterating what was consumed,
because no one can assist
straightaway, except sheer sensibility.

I zealously voyage to fresh continents
governed by fervent faith,
but not out of belligerent blindness,
for you are in my blazing vision.
I feel secure, comforted.
Is that some aberrant crime?
If so, I have committed treason
against my fickle emotions,
retreating, fading into you,
locating a plush landing
in feather beds and azure pillows.

Let's exonerate our stubborn stupor,
never looking back, eliciting distorted
madness. The future has liberated
endless  possibilities, an array of
ruby riches replenishing parched souls.

Our destiny sings gilded psalms:
brittle blackness replaced
by opaque dawn.