Do you ever?

Do you ever dream of me
the way I dream of you?
Like calm waters whose airy surface becomes an inverse reflection of a reality
that seems so honest and actual,
that when you awake,
you question who is the dreamer
and which reality is the dreamed?

Either way, when you awoke something ancient inside me,

I bean to give,

like water pushing rocks, trembling.

My need to give feels like pouring myself into a bottomless ladle
that's reaching across the horizon
looking for the edge of the universe.
If I only knew how to give it to you

I might stop overflowing across your fields of flowers.
I'm flooding into the streets.
It's been years since I was shaken,
and I still haven't figured out how to stop
spilling over myself into your void.

Gushing through the cracks,

from that bottomless edge, I push myself up and up again

like air bubbles trying to escape and find their airy surface,
searching for the answers in the map of seaweed and sea stars.
I pause here suspended,
wondering if you will ever understand

or if this feeling was just a reflection of a dream

where I swim through questions if my feeling was a dream
and if you were even real.