despair (imagined)

Will you dance with me tonight,
in a world
created by weaving
a storyteller’s delight,
by the riverside,
under the silent shelter
of the shivering trees?

Will you let the stones
scar your feet
and make them bleed,
till you can walk
no more,
till we have to lie down
and wait
for the moon to wake
from its slumber
and cover our
shivering,
scarred feet
with the silver blanket
of our sordid troubles,
till we realise
that nothing is
as were told
it is,
till the hunger
in your soul
lets you sleep
peacefully,
so peacefully that for once
there is not
a thought
in your mind
and nothing
that I could see
as I stare
into the emptiness
of our eyes?