Some nights are clearer than starfire,
And pregnant of visions only for the blind,
Those whose eyes were closed to the brightness
That of wealth and this of might.
Some call it dreams, others code,
Some take it seriously, others seriously laugh,
Others shout while some plot
The visions for those who truly see not.
I will tell you of mine for you are god
And goddess alike.
You are many more than my many mine
Tonight, I longed for all my women past,
All together in one dream song.
Mingled, they had no body of any sort.
They were perfection while part of this throng,
And when separated this longing did not last.
