If you would come to me
You must come to a private place
Where there is no sound but the sound
Of light upon your face.
Nor is there any mask but that
Of nebulas survival
{That hidden space}
Where all who would desire hope will be.
So love that might be mine one night
Please allow for that privacy I need.
It requires patience I understand
And mayhap a tenderness far beyond
The worth I span.
But I address an image in a dream
So she will, in ghostly wistfulness
Bend softly to my scheme
And let me have my private place
Though together when our souls require
To forget the frantic, deathly wishes of a race.
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I just found this in a box of papers. I wrote it 40 years ago and forgot all about it.