Reality

You step out of the shelf you step out of the picture frame you do not fit in the carving of stone from all the hard eternal concepts among them, you step out you come toward me and the filings of my hands you draw toward the rings of your hair you draw toward the lobes of your ears you come through the pores of my skin into my astonished inside like the onrush of the endless universe into the primal void and dying of the joy of this possession...