Rainbow

It is for this rainbow we were born. A wan of flash and distant purple melt into pink, waft into yellow and nutmeg brown, your skin like abandoned almond peel and lavender melting into lilac and sliding, gliding, confiding in a profusion of red sifting into powder blue, a remnant of a mood passing by.

I thought I knew you once on the shores of Carthaginia, that remote time of blush and pageant and grey remorse, of lengthening streams of color, coagulating, cascades of rushing tope and emerald green distancing themselves from us.

It is for this rainbow we were born. It is for chance encounters with dreams and the colors of dreams and the schemes of things and the reams of dreams, with ribbons flying like things in things and schemes of things forever living in dreams.

I thought I remembered you, a flash of distant lightning in the night, a chance encounter with the gold moon in your face, the making of a planet in your heart, a vague notion of exploding magenta startling the geckos and the loons. Mark my words when I say...mark me...In your heart lies a chamber that has never been entered. Let me bring the rainbow there.